BERLIN BURSTS

Looking Thru’ a Hole in the Wall 

don’t

Destroy history spirited

Into the tainted air remains as

Its remains

Derelict monument to extra-human

Scale on sale as Pirate

Art gritting gritted

Teeth, mood

Recognitions across vacant

Division       balancing the hollow 

Cusp of the wall a single

Book fans its open pages out

Of range of binoculars

Glass coffin temples &

Ghettos De Luxe --

Film escapades point

To posterity the shell of the

East & its visionary balconies

Out of Range     

Sputnik on a stem dwarfs

A boulevard of saluting

Tanks the unsecret head-

Quarters of the police ranked

Sweet jars

Of sweaty sex-swabs crazed

Dogs randy on the stink snap

At loins squeezed at gun

Point from worm holes a gift

Culture of the nomenklatura

The sheathed

Pleasures of ceremonial

Swords trumped up awards

Bookend Lenins &

Honnekers the dark stain

Of Directorate walls a narrow

Bed for the ultimate

Sacrifice squat telephones

Kept in the

Dark a bulky reel     

To reel rolls out of an

Empty cocktail cabinet

Guarded gossip swivels

In ersatz

Modernity the

Reels spinning clacking

Spools a worthless archive

Of whispers

Sachsenhausen

1

Photographs of dogs guard the

House prices the dead

Make quiet neighbours he follows

The pilgrimage flapping in

White suit pursuit ponder the

Death March he catches

His breath his captive

Echoes repeated witness of a

Cover-cost testimony forever

Under the Arbeit

2

Watchtowers constrict the

Horizon granite slabs

Polyp’d with pebbles bodies

Tipped 

From carts down basement chute no

Body speaks tiled room preserved

In shivering chill of doctors

Too scared to descend

To select tattoos on

Backs for science born

In guts outnumbered

By silence fresh

On the marble slab runnels

And sluices for human

Blood nobody looks in another’s

Eyes colour

Coded receptacles for

Variegated rubbish the

Clump of hair ghosting

A scalp

3

Wasp tormented rubbish bin a

Mausoleum of Coke cans that

A woman photographs a

Museum of extermination

Vitrines of stars nobody

Speaks to cover the ground

Crumbling splinters the Gestapo’s

Green Casino abandoned

Strapline of hope Mach

Frei entering here the

Murmuring memorials over

The haunted shifting sub-soil

Friedhof

Under Brecht

Mansion never grow

Patient with huddled

Holes driving to the Ensemble

In whose car overlooking

The war-pocked graves

From his modest prospect of

Hegel’s block as from his

Own slab a stone for

Heartfield swallowing blech! in

Organic result of the

Eternal heil! super-

Imposed on the quiet families

Moving and pointless there!

Pointing they say to a scrubby

Flowerbed third stone no

Tombeau but plot of un-

Weeded earth for unnamed

Thinker permeated

With pessimism remembrance

Spurs Art

Fights my manuscripts Brecht

Wrote my suitcase lies in

Guiltless guilt