Song Of The Dung Beetle


Begin the curve of the world

you become


Stretch and roll out the land

into a little continual womb

on which to dance

and discover


a laughing elasticity

to circumference.


Upside down balance



Legs translate the muttering

of stars effortless touch


Synchronise solar sighs

into straight paths


Do not ask, there is no code

but course, the disembodied voice

of cosmos


Organism sing whole

the scatterings of continent


Dew settle restless into

collective sediment


and let setting sweat




One must mix gravel and grit

in the round gut of a drum

mortal must help shape

the colour brown,


Rib the night with wind

whipped stick, the mixture

will soon sit quick – smooth

the roof over our cool dark pit,

plaster the dome walls and still the heat –

a gourd – this hut of skin, flesh and/organ

will wrinkle and crack in umbels of light,


peaking its head like a worm

does the splits, we drift

and move along as morning, learn

the soft turbulence of soil, become

the tuberous fold of the world’s home


Rolling and tumbling

tumbling and rolling

loosen like surf


Journey man – Journey bug – Nomad

and astronomer, carry what you cannot

and unravel unstable as song

the remainders of the longest beyond


Rolling and tumbling


tumbling and rolling


travel like surf


You passage of earth



Termites furrow and tunnel

blindly woven webs, networks

branch underground


The mound becomes

a mountain

and rain returns us

back to the ground



Go around,


Disturb the Ant lion

and fall into its curse

collapse curvature

and wall in

on itself


let the circle

get caught – open



Sun sunk and gone

sun sunk and gone a’

runnin n a’ jumpin – archin’

like a blue striped marlin


parts water to come back –


a boomerang ping-ponging

in action.


Shit son,

sun don’t know how to act


It’s a scab, a shell

a flesh-

less cuttlefish. Washed

up urchin orb

drawing into the shore


The law of tomorrow


crawl out. Glance


Have no choice

but to leave your body there


and start the dance again


The turning tide will bring

away the incessance

of daylight

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