DRINK THE EMBARRASSMENT

You are breathing language substrate.
You are walking through a tropical forest
of undiscovered expression,
a hemisphere of unvoiced sound.

The smallest unit of meaning is a morpheme.
Like germs, morphemes lurk everywhere,
ink spit and typeface in mirrors.
They always did. They always will

tempt you to assign value.
When you do,
you inhale invisible language dust,
delusion molecules, fantasy atoms, fact iotas

and inflate yourself with them,
build dreams, hang hope off them,
act on them
and then you fall.

There’s frenetic mutation
and any number of misunderstandings
but when you’ve tried to make sense before,
you have some immunity

or is it an addiction?
Beware of powdered data,
the bits and bytes,
the d.n.a. of sentences:

adenine, the letters, guanine,
cytosine, syllables, thymine,
pulverised alphabet, spores of flower verb,
proglottids of emotional worm,

‘a’s and ‘z’s, silent and transparent as air in air,
illness heralds, single cellular life.
A body, gavel like, clears its throat,
life sentences pour from the mouth.

Fine numerals, hair breadths, fractional tolerances
in creation soup, gamete ideas meeting,
generating plagues and paradise,
bugs, bug fixes, zygotes, cons and lies,

health bestowing stories, awesome description,
vaccines and poisons, inoculation and possession,
abrasive punctuation, transmogrifying radiations of fear and hate,
the syntax of oppression, granular imperatives

all swirling inaudible, intangible in the bubble
that surrounds you, caught in the filters
for understanding, clogging their mesh,
short circuiting nerves.

Beware the integrity thread,
leading back through the maze
into tree clean air, is fraying, is spat on and rotting,
is being chewed by sentiment and untied by pride.

The signs billow, flutter and flow like substitute oxygen.
You need to absorb some and live for a while in delusion,
drink the embarrassment to boost the signifying anti-bodies,
take the rumours and the paranoias like strychnine tonic,

the fantasies as sugar, the lies as creative,
the fear as a warning, the half truth as a half truth.
You are breathing language substrate.
You are walking through a tropical forest of undiscovered expression,
a hemisphere of unvoiced sound.

ZQ 170317