for the next phoneme placed on a fragmented board, letter by
letter Hekate's ecology is wired
with fetishes inwardly lit, with swarms of photons outwardly
glowing with slow radiogenic decay...
a journey of rags, gowns, white abalone shells, fluffy green
plutonium powder, condoms secreting drops of turquoise,
punctured protective gloves...jars
become 55-gallon drums, feeding
holes sealed with locking rings, fourteen containers
swaddled in processed foam and stainless steel skin.
fumes of bitter love are inhaled
from the cave salting away
memories of domestic tranquility
beneath domes of collective dreams, as seen from a
distance: history is highbacked and wide-drifted,
its corridors braced with six million cubic feet of noxious
debris. Here we unearth the remains
of an ancient tribe whose powerful machines exposed the black belly that eats birthdays, sacrificing
them to their radiant wealth.