DAWN:
Appears out of the dark, preceded by rubber grumbles, pushing a big
red thing on wheels, wheels that used to be our friends,
friends remain, no longer write letters, industry as poetry, a legend
still rolling, a glimmer of a smile in recollection of times.
Messages vibrate cafe tables, shaken by distant afterthoughts as the
names of exotic hot-stuffs burst through the door, rolling off the
tongues of painters & decorators, twenty first Century evolution
on the move, the accent of Man, steamed with a shot, keeping it clean
since 1971.
Listening to Niels Kirk
(K)
Block head
Voodoo guru*
The postie’s coming.
Satan Claws is coming to town….
No, twearly mate
Everything’s for a time
Then fades into the next thing
What’s the time?