Monday, 14 January 2013


Blood, is blood; 4 types, no religion
Washing from the red to the dead
Washing into sand, into pavement,
Into white cloth, blue and black

(A) Blood filled with wine, with caffeine, nicotine
Blood with memories heard and seen
Blood soaking into stone, long after the surface washes clean

(B) Into soil, dark, sun drying, linking these bodies with the earth,
Blood in the oil from the fruit of the tree, child of the soil, laboured into birth

(AB) More blood that comes in beauty, in nature, in creation
Blood on the brow and the cord the child that enters, and coursing through the veins
Of the Mother, proud

(O) Blood in the same veins, running cold at the sight of the
Blood on that same brow of same child, making a mark, molding a temple
Blood crusting around the perfect circle between the eyes
Blood swathing the metal that penatrates deeper, erasing fragile matter leaving
A name, a photograph, a banner

Black and blue, cloth white into pavement,
Into sand washing from the dead to the read, wahing
No Religion
4 Types
Blood is Blood