Friday, 4 September 2009


Acceleration remakes my shape along the path
To a distant land, where sight hangs less steadily
Upon surfaces and rumours return of colours run
Thru one another; beyond the reach of speed, and
Time’s teachings, where nothing’s seen of current
Themes except abstract impressions.

Upon its differential thread of steerage inertia
No longer worships on it knees but fuels the rush
Of others furthering their freedom. Swung around
This cantilever we lucky few are worn like worry
Beads thumbed together by the bedevilment
Of eternal church concerns,

And hope the precious left behind are invoked
To consider our position, although signs are not
Posted or roads noted and clergy would call
Heathen all those who believe in our distinction,
Some may gain the most from knowing we
Sent drafted manuscripts;

Distortions brought back in flattened patterns,
Distilled from mountain top shouting into the
Thinnest whispers and caught in crystal whisky
Glasses pressed strenuously to ears, and trapped
With quickest hands for bagging and tagging
And eventual unravelling.

Here, we scream, is wonder; here where seams
Have been unpicked and spun to better fit the
Shunned and humble, where worth or wealth
Are pin tacked upon the background, and left
Unnecessary in the vested forms we leave for
The world to wear.

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