Disembodied Emissions Analysis

I hear the beach is hot this time of year.

Foucault was wrong, dreams do not make the man.

In Singapore, they cook their meat outside,

I hear the polar ice has stopped receding.

Don’t let me stop you, I am not the one

who writes the news—I only try and read it.

In Singapore, they cook it into pieces.

Walk on, my son, walk on. I didn’t mean it.

A great war in the summer sets the stage

for winters in the spring. Shall I compare

my face to other faces whilst they sleep?

In Singapore, there’s flooding twice a week.

The hammerhead sings odes to autumn glances

by sticking its smooth fin in people’s mouthsies.

My mother dreamt that she was always shouting.

Did l tell her Singapore was drowning?

I have not heard that one before, my friend.

Please tell that joke again, the German one;

The one about the hotel and the zeros.

No, not that way! In Singapore, they shout it.

My funeral was last March, now it’s December.

Azerbaijan just invaded Berkeley Square.

In Singapore, I hear that they are frying,

I hoard the high-gloss photos of them dying.

Walk on, my son, walk on. I never claimed

all hope was lost—enjoy the summer snow!

The gun is trained, your face tells me it’s loaded.

When we are gone, I tell you, they will know.