Sounds like we had a good Easter in Sutton
Patrick of Helical indisposition
-----Original Message-----
From: Poetryetc: poetry and poetics [mailto:[log in to unmask]] On
Behalf Of Lawrence Upton
Sent: 23 April 2014 11:25
To: [log in to unmask]
Subject: Story board
A beast crunching necklaces. Another smashed hope.
Broken teeth. Broken construct of wishes.
Ruler of levels.
Dead chicken on makeshift altar. Everyone denies the words of oddity,
speaking contrary to gestures, gesturing contrary to their tone.
In an emergency the creatures might give pleasure. This, however, is
mundane.
In a confessional a priest says pray for me. He is the only priest alive
in the world. All of the others have been compromised and outmoded.
These days most social symbols have been standardised; red for danger,
arrows for direction, fires for purification or cover-up, guns for power,
sky for profit, soil for profit, eyes for science, words for lust or power
or science or danger.
Cascades of curses cross abstractions, melt. Cross abstractions melt. That
universe is abandoned that is reflexively abandoning itself.
Helical indisposition, address engulfed, says someone.
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