Here’s an extract from Ken Fox’s latest pub­lic­a­tion, Auto­erot­i­ca­po­ca­lyptic­um. Ken’s poetry com­bines the urgency and con­vic­tion of Blake with the steely-eyed sci-fi real­ism of Wil­li­am Bur­roughs. Proph­et­ic, wise and mind-fucked, his work cuts a hot-bladed swathe through poet­ic politesse and do-goodery in order to say some­thing vital that will leave you thrilled and aghast.

Ken Fox: Auto­erot­i­ca­po­ca­lyptic­um
Paper­back: 38 pp

To get a copy, click on the Buy but­ton below to send email to Ken. Payp­al / e‑payments can be made to ken11fox@yahoo.ca. Cost of print­ing is about $3 CDN, ship­ping out of Ken’s home in Saska­toon, Canada to Europe and the UK costs around $9 CDN … but it’s pay-what-you-can right down to bone-zero—so if in doubt, get in touch.

Autoeroticapocalypticum

A RED TORPEDO pushes
against the hull of a titan­ic ves­sel exert­ing counter-pres­sure
to the big boat’s glob­al vibrato,

red tor­pedo, born of a ship
like this, which lives etern­al
in its on-board memory, 

is return­ing home, explos­ively
it wants the ship to be
a mis­sile too, it wants
to des­troy but lacks
actu­al detonation.

Whore of Babylon

I WANT to be born again
in the crust of a damp plan­et
toss­ing dream­ish in a sat­ur­ated
bio­mass & the soil is teem­ing
& everything wildly shoot­ing up
& surf­ing & the air is thick
with hot magic & the sky
is streaked with care­less col­our
& the ground is crowded
with hungry anim­als & everything
is burst­ing & all thot hardens
into a stone monu­ment
then dis­solves into the eager
gulp­ing, com­mun­al ground 

did you wake, caked
in half-baked spoo? 

Did the dev­ils do
their night strips
all over you? 

Dev­ils did you
their spawn is in you. 

& did you
give birth
to gods? 

Whore of Babylon

In the movie
you screamed
when the human
gave birth
to a demon, 

& it was us, all the crimes of human­ity, they are a part of us, they swim in us & we give birth to demons nitely. 

& always the spillage
gets in us every­day
with wastewa­ter
we get
changed, 

Walk with me among the onions & black waters & the gen­er­a­tions of beetles & spiders & worms, crawl with me, in the spillage, always, 

Spend freely, send
love, sprinkle freely
in the dampened ground 

Whore of Babylon
Whore of Babylon

Alleg­or­ic­al com­mu­nion
scrap-plug dys­func­tion
plo­pitude incrap­tion
illis­lips dille­mp­tion
aroink­ing swells elash­ious
pala­bi­al reforce­ment
cemen­ted sed­i­ment
excre­ment befun­da­ment
abun­da­ment, defril­la­ment, accre­tion
of his­tor­ic­al crusts, lam­in­ar
in-crust, out-crust, sol­ar
build-up, scal­ar cal­cu­lous
vec­tor cumulous, scrip­ted
inno­cuum, a flock
of bedev­illed immacu­lum
the vatic­um, shad­ow
of a vac­cu­ous van­it­ari­um
the ruck­us, an insect-riddled
insychi­um, the bedev­illed
ingenuum, an engeni­us
engin­at­or­i­um, the flash­ile
pen­et­ratuum slymnas­i­um
bug-battered pen­es­trasi­um
elong­at­ing the scarred crust
tor­nado-plugs inch­ing ever
inward, your song
about them
endless, 

Whore of Babylon

How your lungs
long, how your song
longs to escape your
lungs, so long so full
so full of song

Long fin­gers, long, long
long­ing fin­gers long
to lock with fin­gers
long to walk with fin­gers
long to reach faraway
places, fin­gers, long,
long, longing, 

Lips, how they long
to spill, long to dribble
long to drool, long
to press & pull this piece
togeth­er, spill­ing
long, long thru
the night, the lips
they long, 

Arms long, hair
longs, every­where
everything liv­ing
longs, the nights
are long, the songs
long, longer,
long­ing to be
born again
to be
long

Whore of Babylon
Ken Fox: Azmud: An Oily Saga on the Sur­face of the Word­bath in 5 Expired Gen­er­a­tions
Unkant, 2013
Paper­back: 270 pp