Kendel Hippolyte
Mack 1 – McWanting
Mack 1 – McWanting
What he’s most wanting is not what he wants
Is not what he craves
Deeper than avarice, if he’d let himself feel, is the haunting hunger
That saves
He holds the whole world with his hired hands
Desperately trying
To have it. But trapped in his spasming grip, his seizures, the earth
Is dying
He cannot stop grasping. Whatever he sees
He is accounting
Its self into cost into price into sale into profit into himself
McWanting
He gluts till he’s wracked with a spasm and spews
Blood-flecked bits of self
A wasting consumption leaving him gasping for life and clutching
At pelf
What is the deep whole he’s wanting to fill
For what is he hungry?
Gorged with the planet’s green flesh, its black bile, its ripped out entrails
And yet empty
Running to every thing and running everything
Avoiding the whole
He’s afraid that will swallow him into its void where he has no thing
No soul
And yet he touches us, Midas-like, desperately
Haunted and haunting
And we, his children, we bear his name like a watermark, secretly
McWanting