|With Your Essay
Dancing On My Mind.
With your essay dancing on my mind.
The map-image, keep close for troubled moments, is:-
towers clear-cut, sky
reflected. Dust on closer inspection. Inside search, enter a room. Look up see
something, see a glass ceiling, see through discern another and perhaps beyond
that. Leave by lift shaft.
Outside - wind blows,
without trees nothing holds - move going towards body, a desert extended. Passing
a distance, still within sight of the usurpers of height measured now in the cupping
of a hand, mark on the ground body that under-stood from beneath the glass.
No trees, wind freely
blows, intervenes items of interpretation onto the drawing. becoming part of and
leaving. In the intermittent voices on the wind hear directions Explanation extends
beyond the drawing, is pulled mark, waiting mouth, a forgetting.
(The economics of 'attention'
as measured by the ECU, dowager index (creatively heard) or index of its own?
Do we all pay in attention? Am I paid? I haven't noticed)
I try not to but
has changed, is it me, have I fell headlong, heartlong, into 'it isn't like it
used to be'?
The meat market,
it's innards gutted to become, the Tontines. With a drill through the skull fountain.
Complete, replete with un-darting fish, spouting ceaseless white noise. No longer
translucent scales, gob-stop eyes life full, life left, lying on tiled slabs and
hanging flesh not plastic deceptive but carrying cow, sheep, pig terribly undisguised.
Blood running, waters slosh to the drains on the stone, as cleaning starts late
Saturday afternoon, ending the week. No echoes of shouts, temptations, flirtations,
jokes jostling amongst stall holders and those on the spy for a bargain that late
in the day, the Tontines is a mausoleum