This poem is taken from Stand 223, 17(3) September - November 2019.

Steve Ely Three Poems
Publicanes and sinners

Far I see, scry bees lapping gold
in the crotch of a dunghill dog,
cock-clipped and de-nutted,
pluckèd of tooth, tits dried
to his ribs like scabs on the hide
of a fly-blown roadside mule.
Flesh is the floor for the drones’
lewd waggle dance; out of the eater
comes forth meat, from the meat
of the eater comes sweetness.  
Render to Dagon the holy of holies
and share it on your platforms:
anthropocene, her surgeon’s cunt,
his live-streamed publick anus.


This man receiueth sinners
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