Do structures bring things together
in high lights or dark
an overlap of foreign affairs and trade
in failure to manage?
The mesh covering the car park entrance
catches the brown leaves and lets
cars go forward, untouched.
What do we expect, a political voice?
When the glass is half full
who’s tripping on the level playing field
keeping a little shine on the ball
less spin or a medium pace
anticipation of the gaps, the stamps
a big boot, no support.
How to co-ordinate agency
the limits of voice.
Who’s to minister the repetition of logos
trying to conserve the act or its history
in the glide of afternoon?
Into the revolve goes an alignment
stars and priorities, the highest commissions.
‘Reality is somewhere else’.
The act as it stands is inconsistent with the models.
But would you pick up the stakes, the degree of grain?
Have you or have you not delivered?
What of this failure to identify the measure?
The pale green bricks glow at midday
the handiwork of winter is foiled within the machine.
What stands alone, as if 'no' means 'no'
but not never
as if time causes money
yellow internal walls, bedrock data
a glint on the window.
There’s a key, silvery, sharp.
Where’s the good news?
Where the work is?
Timetables for the end of the world
as we know it, are continuous.
So long as it’s written down
like disaster recovery
near the bottom line, the broken one.
Interests driven by gear, internal or mixed up confusion
framing of loss and dividends
there’s too much of almost nothing
a centrifuge is humming
the risk is the outcome.
Jill Jones
Sydney, 1.30pm, 3 August 2005
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