Dies Irae
day of wrath
Sunday morning listen to civilizations mechanical Cartesian rhythms
of
the coffee bean came from poverty-stricken Columbia
milk from a bovine destined for slaughter
no sugar
life is sweet enough.
I know a song that has no beats, no rhythms
and no sounds
haunting echoes of the universal
emptiness
all my strophes and all my chorus
un-stood
tenor, symbol, metaphor
when it’s structural, it’s all you can do
to taste the acid the song goes roar
I am iambic pentameter who you always bring back because you don’t have enough
money to live in Montreal
or the moon.
I am the only thing right with the world
I am a natural desire
natural man-flesh
I vibrate to the low frequencies
touch the high ones too
I am the pure DNA between flesh and God
I am an ox
turning.
When I was young
my life was Epicurus’
now I am old
Diogenes has taken hold
I need something that rhymes with the sound of a siren
to de-cauterize my neighbourhood
life is desperate
life has a grudge against us
and death loves us too much
Finding meaning is not impossible, it’s just nobody bothers with it.
we ghost the world.
Copyright© 2022, by David Groulx. All Rights Reserved.
David Groulx’s 11th book of poetry, From Turtle Island to Gaza (Athabasca University Press), was released in 2019.