A wo-man. A po lice man? A bus i ness man? A cruel housebreaker and plunderer? Ho lie of the landdown is off is out. Is over. Who lie and who lie ahead now? Billion forth to the last upending. Who die and who cast? Out of what coin? Who has metal for the total write down. Then through to the under beneath every overland. What ward then? Whereward? Whenward? Whyward? Everywo-man is anxious in notime. Everywo-man is eager for outspace. Whence and wither the ni-hill-list? All over the hill go hordes and hoarders. Ho-ward sink all dumbstruck sycophants. And afterward?

Mark it! The grains cannot grow. Only stones to sow in downlands tilled over over over and over. Never any longer the least trace of resolve for wherewithal enough for forward. Nor any path to retreat. Look thereward over the wastes with no trace of horizon! No trace of horizon! Look hereward inward before the last look with no trace of reprisal. Yet whose taste is it for such miserly surmisals? With no trace? All I’s against I’s for every forward handover. Rarely a nay to oppose an overhand outstretched to the underhanded diminishments.

All of old. Nothing else ever. Ever tried. Ever failed. No matter. Try again. Fail again. Fail better.

First the time. Yes. Second the space. No. First the place and second the time.

A world. A word. A world in the word and a word in the world. Both and never neither never a world without a word, but words billion forth yet never say on. Never say a body. On nor up nor about nor in nor through. Never to it. Body always missaid, mislaid, waylaid. When is a wayfarer a waylayer. Never for long. When is a waylayer a wayfarer. For ever. Better for worse or fail worse again.

Hear of bones. Word bones or bone words? Many will never stand or stand up when so many never stand down. Up they stand up and stand up to for word bones littering desert mountains and stolen lands and shuddering bone words shuttered by noise splattering the densest vacancies. Coptering over the underdozers. Hope for force of exodus. Force them to desert. Say remains of mind where none to permit of pain. Pain of bones till no choice but up and stand. Somehow stand.

All of old. Nothing else ever. But never so failed. Worse failed. With care never worse failed.

But now no care. Global carelessness a total war in the dim light though source under flooding light. Nothing now unknown yet never before was failure worse. Continents of failed choices all known to fail continents of choice. Capital incontinence. Yes no future this. None. None neither never nor no none none none ever. Before the downcast eyes clenched? No knowing how known? All now known in disbelief at the dim chance all fading up into the glare of the human void. How so absent from itself? Stand so full of void. Not somehow. Knowhow. Precise knowhow cutting plate glass with diamonds boundless. Wither once whence no return. Beyondless. Thenceless. Thitherless.

Where then but there see –

A wo-man. A no-man. A middlewo-man. A tireless consumptive. Where then but there see – whereward? Misseen in the wasted mis en scene. Flash through the gallonstreets and the highwaytons on rays of the misseen radiant in the dash and bang of the mass and massive accumulation all fit for the view of the limitless spread of lightstreets at the darkest hour. Flash! and the fullness spreads thence and thither where no horizon can be seen. Mis en misscene. Whereward consummumptive wo-man?! Whither?! Wither. Waste in the downlands and landhighs, in the overlands and undertides. How know you where to stand in the standdown? Fastward or slowward? Rundown falldown meltdown hidedown. All through the misseen expanding without shadow before eager eaters in middowntown. Lips curl with the fastforward freight in towndown.

Where then but there see now –

Waste in the downlands and landhighs, in the overlands and undertides. How know you where to stand in the standdown?

All through the misseen expanding without shadow fires the flashgun. What seen? Who seen? What wo-man? Only the refugee. Off from the island sinking in the sea. All others these. Without shadow fires the flashgun. All others these. Inbetween all else recedes and none worse better than these. Without shadow fires the flashgun all else refugees there where they recede. Up standing far from the standdown. They all go down.

Lips curl with the fastforward freight in the downturn.

Homelessward without horizon fastward. Deserts rain down and winters dry up while the wo-man knows no handholds unchanging in the downturn. Far and wide the same. High and low. Unchanging as the changing changes. Whence no knowing. No saying. Say only such flashes as never. Over all. Say a gulf in the void. So sudden gone sudden back unchanged as one fastflash unreceding flashes on and over the downturn. At all costs unknown. So far.

Snowblow of duststorms over darkening waters where winds strike the surface surges and the birdbroods alarmed train in the stormsurf. Tidal calamities on the verge. None have words that float. No words edge. None call back the rise. Hotter heat makes more cold burn.

So far far and wide. So far forever. This little much of planet alone. This narrow and narrowing field. On back to unsay void can go.

Void cannot go.

Void is a refugee.

On back better worse to fail the head said seat of all. Germ of all. All? If of all of it too. Where if not there it too? There in the sunken head the sunken head. The hands. The eyes. Shade with the other shades. All fail worse with the same flash. The same diminishments. Whereward wo? Ask not. No. Answers are vain. Planet alone. Is a refugee.

Then all go. Go for good. No words for those who world. No worlds for those who word. So from now. For to gain time. Time to loose. Gain time to loose. The world once. The word once. What room for worse! Or better worse say still a watch to night alas to come. A rest of last watch to come. And take what last words do not edge? No words last. What night watch this? Heart is a void. My heart is a refugee.

Waste in the downlands and landhighs, in the overlands and undertides. How know you where to stand in the standdown? Lips curl with the fastforward freight in the downturn. The flashgun fires.

The weight of all oceans on earthcrust grows. Pending worse still. All eyes unbooted. Reboot how? Scene and seer of all. On. Stare on. Be on. Somehow on. Anyhow on. Till flash gone. At long last gone. All at long last gone. For bad and all. Whereward refugee? Body always missaid, mislaid, waylaid. When is a wayfarer a waylayer. Never for long. When is a waylayer a wayfarer. For ever.

Billion forth to the last upending. Who die and who cast? Out of what coin? Who has metal for the total write down. Then through to the under beneath every overland. What ward then? Where wo-man refugee? Before the downcast eyes clenched? No knowing how known? All now known in disbelief at the dim chance all fading up into the glare of human void. How so absent from itself? Gulf stands so full of void. Not somehow. Knowhow.

Snowblow of duststorms over darkening waters where winds strike the surface surges and the birdbroods alarmed train in the stormsurf. A world. A word. A world in the word and a word in the world. Both and never neither never a world without a word, but words billion forth yet never say on.

Oceans have no surface. Only a plurality of depths marked by no singular color. Wind is temperature change exposed by the scattering of colored shadows. Over the shimmer of infinite hues. Wind is highlight and midtone spreading shadows. With the rapidity of birdlight skimming wave crests without direction. Flocks of reflection signaling that message is futile. Stripped of surface, all depth is revealed and the seafloor vanishes. Eiderducks fish in the zone between, eyes good in the sub-marine and the salted air, transgress the habitats.

succumb, succumb you of the dirge below the skirt of the death you’ve brought on. yes, i blame you. you with the over delicate self-apprisal. you of the middle wantonness only for your own good. never ever never ever have you cared or learned to say ‘no’. ye old nationalists nay, know nothing about yourselves and are happy to kill your own sons and daughters, your children, as you throw them under the bus of melting glaciers.