Thursday 22 September 2016
Saturday 10 September 2016
Friday 9 September 2016
Intimate Cartography 2 - Third Batch
There's a slipping of some kind and an
impact a broken wooden rim is very clear
cold and deep-red-brown kitchen tiles in
boxy blue air
a deep cupboard of curious broken treasures
a sharpening numbness
they're all present and gathered
seeming expectant
blood and - pause - screaming
and a gathering then to a large & bustling
all-warmth & comfort
Itching of
anxious dread
after-school
boneheads
flecking idiocy
hating haircuts
you secretly confuse 'pubic' and 'public' &
shifting sidelong wary
attempting to trace a line out from
abusive threats
thick electric breath &
real danger of harm
chosen with a choice of subculture
It's all feeling as though it's already coming down
four
or five
running along dim corridors
vibrating nostalgically in a thin
blue-green glaze & beams of dust
A bollocking at tedious length this hideous
insult
the buzzing
infantilising
fucked
dying eyes
dragging bowels
nailed in place by need
Pffff
Transparent lethal yellow plastic disorientation
stretching through the air way up to the corrugated roof
waves of corrugated steel heat running down across
everything rising from the packed mud floor
Shining fat-necked bottles of milk
medical eye-patch asthma
red brick whooping cough
A black Bakelite phone in thin light and cold air
She is filling with a feeling that sings
through the skin across her shoulder blades
clear & touching the sun as her eyes
drink the instantaneous lives of children
Cutting and infecting inside the skin, she
knows and briefly expresses the injustice
the slavery of a cup of tea
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