Right Click, Saviour As



What price the scaffolds

of pixels among what

Calvaries, Gethsemanes?

What testament done four

ways? What songs spoiling for

the illusion of the illusion

of choice? Hoist what bones

along the east-west lines, high 

on the throats of what woods?

Let the rib taste venom. Watch

the iris pinch-zoom figures

salvaged through wind through walls.

You’ll soon believe me absent

then my absence absent too.