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mac dunlop poetry index

 
BLANK

Blankness lines the day, and its just beginning here
but there?
The soldiers 
the bombs
sweat
in fuel air
the same air
fuel breathes

thinking,
somehow lost forever
the resources drain away
and complain of flight
across borders.

Dropping food, dropping bombs
dropping shit from heaven
like lumps of frozen toilet waste
projecting
into next summer
the scum
the returning exiled king
the vacumn of democracy

17/10/01