here is a landscape
here is ‘all hell’,
the distance between each line
some kind of ‘celestial ssnarl’
redistributes the city
a strange and bitter crop
furnace / numbers / christians
yeh / yeh / yeh:
you reach a fork in the voice,
the gaps between the lines
widen / like a mountain range
or those secret rooms
where the law goes to scream
have your say, o burnt decibel
every morning I take a pill
stops electricity, stops
most things / so imagine
you’re pleasant in the mall
some shuffling guy bites you
& its music everywhere
communism, dole scroungers
but we go there for money
everything is shimmering
the gaps in your voice
smoke of the bottomless pit
idiots on sulphur
o bollocks
there goes Thatcher again
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