Friday, September 11, 2015
G r i t b y S e a
As the curtains panic back consider the
not The Feature. Early summer, term, of prescribed
poets, fuels melodramatic bonfires. We flag unseen
currents; rescuer, rescued, swap roles. At the table –
a puzzle solved leaves only the face unfocussed. Littoral
anxieties: note the arms, exposed in the undershot of a surfboard and Scythian winds turn involute
curses in disguise leave you comfortable as swimming
in your jeans...we see how the rat preps the dictaphone
as underwear, how the view doubles as a memory?
There was to be no glass in the garden after six.Romeo’s to leave the collective living room; still dollar
wise we migrate to that big house on the border.