poem for July 12

Self-Governing (in Feverish

Painfully in the third or the 4th house of the residence
as if to enhalo meant: this rock oil snake: automatic weapon.
Basically the necropole's on the take, when you look round.
Lashings, whip song. That's what gives it those tremors
or (if you envision a lion's share) some DNA, burnt off.

Nonuse, in the middle of changed zoning.
Even if yr wheels roll over my ears, and my years.
Ragify back in those spaces we should share: the
united states of larvae; white salute, for putrefaction. And, yr
demands are blank. So they seal out the air.
Astroliths are spieling out profits in the ink blood nod.

(Pablo Neruda was born on July 12, 1904)

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