Smiling here!
Once it was simple: the post-modern chickens
lived in stories by Chaucer retold from Aesop
and everyone knew the colour of dirt on their hands.
Then space turned complex, like a string
told out through too many years, and we found
that farmyards turned scenic, and the farting
old man in brown trousers was now a case
for social services, or consumer development
and that chickens couldn't read inscriptions
running wild on rolexes, as the narratives began
to gibber quietly in half-cocked rickety sheds
and that everyone had too many stories baled
ready for an unwanting market. That a consclusion
lies at the line's end is the finish that we fear.
(dunno if that's any good at all: just am improvisation with a scared
of the world smile!)
Best
Dave
2008/9/16 MC Ward <[log in to unmask]>:
> It's interesting that space w/out time keeps cropping up here when we postmodern chickens (sorry, Dave!) have had the term and concept to use since 1915 (at least). Strikes _me_ as retro design , albeit on a continuum.
>
> Candice
>
>
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--
David Bircumshaw
Website and A Chide's Alphabet http://homepage.ntlworld.com/david.bircumshaw/
The Animal Subsides http://www.arrowheadpress.co.uk/books/animal.html
Leicester Poetry Society: http://www.poetryleicester.co.uk
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