"Untitled" by Ali Znaidi

The scabietic clouds protrude in the corridors

of the wind scanning a post-human condition

rife with wiggly worms: Grotesque creatures

skimming tombstones. A funeral within a funeral.

Death within death. A dream within a dream.

A myth within a myth. Fireflies invade the broken

lanterns. Crows puke falsettos of being. Punkness

of darkness. A cacophony of sounds. Tolls of bells.

Beats of drums; doom. Lord, how shall we hear

the shr[ill] muttering of thunder? --The voice

of revolt. The storm is about to start like a congested

lesion. --Like eruptive magma baptized on the tongue.