This blog is the ends, not the means. A small poem for Saturday.
Green Screen Dream
Black marble matted with midnight swirls. Suspended, shimmering
Plotted upon green screen.
All that there was – Don’t wake me for pixels or continental shifts –
Puzzle me not for Putnam’s pickle
Creating new idioms and the vanity of metaphysical rifts
Small tears in space
I don’t remember
Kissed sweet and twenty
Squared by twenty twenties
‘A grain of sand’ on fifty miles of poetic obsolescence
Love and forgetting
Falling through a torus
and back to Brimsdown.
Back to the anthropocentric