Division is currency Past and present Without it not the mechanics Of everything we know And in so much The infelicities of beggars In want of something besides But not knowing what That isn’t depressed By the currency of division

I reckon things amiss The turnstiles of a plummeting gate Passengers let a half mile from stations Newspapers thricely reporting bad news The lamps glow the streets Songs alone ensure them The cobbles Trojan in fleet Ever masted to crawl westward Cast charged with burdened cleats In the new world our position mastered Though starved and drunk on religion Beyond the reckoning of those besides That had dwelt there Died there A millennia Right and wrong collided like waves Fled

As long as there is beauty There is something to fight for There is nothing stopping us But ourselves Every morning the light comes Every night we sleep through the darkness Which, ultimately, is more important? We are servants of a single place Though divided we cannot escape it Without each other we are nothing Hold to that

Wake up to white lights A thumping head Overdosed on Ativan Mother down the hall anxious Sat in the shower with an Olympia Too wrecked to stand Got out wet and struggled on pyjamas Fell to the floor Oblivion Nothing to worry about Not money or a career or love Just black Its net worth in the trillions When I awoke something had gone wrong The terrible reality that I was still there An absolute aching in my chest As if some great needle had punctured it As if something had occ

Here innumerable The constant of the streets In tenements and low places Captured in the wild within the superlative Lost low looking at leftovers The detritus of civilization Every measure of us has known it Though none have cared barked equilibrium Nothings, outweighing the rich, sit humble Until that day of absolute revolution When equality will seize a new morning In a bird my soul resides Black and in a murder Knowing all faces and incidents Forever locked in the trees a