Monday, February 26, 2007

understand capitalist architecture
as the infinite made entirely
measureable, each packed number
a pit of in-numerable mysteries
marketed as just the tool you need
to make your skin pop with
the burden of being a blazing core
of happiness, dizzy with the
spendour of actively being
a symbol of government mathematics
melted down to the base signal rate
& packed into poisoned land
till vocabulary re-enters the
stratosphere as simple thumbnail
equation: this building equals ‘you’,
any other calculation results in
immediate instersection of
your back-up image with re-hab
static & stars in all our eyes -
the burst cells accumulate as
dog-puke at clandestine borders
where negative alphabets conspire
with your spit is lovely and
rings through every occulted corridor,
the line-manager’s deranged eyeglass.

1 comment:

Jo Lindsay Walton said...

Post more, I am bored. "Au lecteur." Should have come for tea. Still haven't packed. It's still solid gas x x