a 4-edged star is a square

i've been herding my shambles
scaphoid in pieces, eyes fixed on the Tartarus
checking the sight of the larvae
that sign a natural contract with the earth
and then crashes with the ice of Volcano
i've been trying to love the starts
knowing how Novembers leave a wrinkle on me
a wet and satisfied wrinkle, of course
when Novembers have gone through me
and filled the ever empty belly of Uranus
and i've been collecting dispositions
walking up and down Homerton High Street
between the hospital, the station, the library
and Ronky - where I could crack the ocean.