Zone One

Zone one, ground zero -
bodies to the horizon and further
and all these stumbling, mazing the roots
of all its great heart lying open
where poets take your words away,
and everything pays rent.

We bruise our stories in a thousand routes,
delighted in our fervour
of marking, making open,
these crevices between rent
wide as we pull away
from ourselves, counting ourselves down to zero.

We read our desires in 'closed' and 'open',
watch the credit suck away,
paying this day our daily rent,
tax us zero
forgive us our roots
in a sin of having, take us further&;#8230;.

here there is no away
because everything is open
and every path leads further
inwards like roots
feeding the core of zero -
that land without rent.

Have you seen further?
Where we count to more than zero
no more all rent
apart, no more routes
that only go to the never-away,
the lights of the ever-open.

Easy to laugh at talk of a get-away -
as if that way will open
for you, as if fervour
were enough to rent
us from this place, and stretch to zero
and its unsigned routes.

We all dream of the zero and the taking away -
not paying our mind's rent so that we might see further -
the bodiless route of the open.