By Keston Sutherland.
The mass of the people heard its iron tramp. But why go on
the show in the first place if you’re so bothered by the invasion
of privacy? Too good for an obscure life? Enjambment mitigates
segregation, which mitigates the final fantasy of universal
niecehood already sabotaged faute de mieux to a retrovirus.
Why grope after a more westerly set than that? If you listen
forever enough only to nothing you might never hear it.
Quotations are used to kickstart the stanzas. Then logic.
The mouthfeel of democracy in 2003: the far left
pedal accelerates the coda, hurricane on a wet black.
Lucas: what the fuck do you see in public imagism
like that for? Akinfemiwa: all the better to ignore you with
hadjiavatis vaticilectrix v. Barbie arbitration
the apparition of a frozen heart grasped in fish fingers.
Nine days in, and as yet the diary hasn’t got my mask off.
The natives are getting derivative. Nothing escapes them.
They adjust to it, as circles adjust to reform into the major
arc in a minor key. Sentences become shorter, get
a commuted tone. Back of the wainscot of the friable ocean
pure thoughts on Fuzzy Felts. I want to get to a point where
I don’t have to go through all this again from the beginning when I
Ship of Fools press Exhibition: Mesopotamia - Some pages from *Mesopotamia*, 1987. Due for re-publication. (Text is part of *Twentieth Century Blues *and also in *History or Sleep.*) *Mesopotamia* w...
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