Circum(con)scription
Lack, freud, loss, absent other tossed to the
charted orders of chaos called conscious.
What flesh subtracted what sexuality is distracted
what is not mentioned in the hyperactive mental multiplication of ritual
dis-ease?
Some country some faith some spirit some distaste,
some groaning wasteland below the scar line measuring the jaw size of enterprise,
of what stands before your eyes, where the reflection is despised, for
its imperfection in your eyes drawing lines in the sand circumscribed like
a shark attack, the tell tale fin scything through the first rays of light
as you set eyes upon the world you live in, and its barbarous purpose now
toward you bent, half knowing, half child half supplicant
half historically convinced that the way forward
is through what once had been.
Family and law, reclusive justice and the
fatal flaw of blood sacrifice and the raw healing flesh.
The lambs cavorting at Stanton Drew, their
tails constricted and fading blue, drop off in another week or two,
the flock
of domesticated rocks solidified from some ancient lava flow, vibrating
in discomfort.
Is it the dogs of war that prise such unsightful
flesh, is this where home and country wrest their influence among men from?
This dismissive fleshy willy so looked down upon?
Like some mutant made by some alien god, or
some spawn of satan, something thrown to the dogs, some post placental
fag-end drawn from scissor snip to correction.
Then upon what rights of man are we dependant?
Securing for the sex of one another's secret
disgression.
In rituals of mutilation, in science classes
of peer pressure action, where one's sex is the last distraction, would
indeed we submit to millenia of extension snip and contraction?
For with one sex, such things seem still to matter, some defend
one while opposed to the latter, and so, delivered up on this ceremonial
platter, or hospital disaster,
here I leave you
something to chew on.
10/2/02
mac dunlop