The Nubian Vultures Have The Floor

La parole aux oricous

Where when how from whence why yes why why why is it that the most villainous tongues have invented so few hooks on which to hang or suspend destiny its pomp and its armpits

Arrest this innocent man. All decoys. He carries my blood on his shoulders. He carries my blood in his shoes. Peddles my blood in his nose. Death to the smugglers. The borders are closed. What horrible cocaine. Neither thumb nor screw. Let death be instantaneous. Neither known nor unknown

all

thank god my heart is drier than the harmattan, all darkness is my prey

all darkness is my due, and every burst joy.

You Nubian vultures at your hovering and pecking stations over the forest and as far as the cavern whose door is a triangle

whose guardian is a dog

whose life is a chalice

whose virgin is a spider

whose rare wake is a lake for standing upright on the descant roads of stormy nixies