SEVEN YEAR VENT, ELIPSIS HEAVY MIX

seven years now

& counting . . .

&

i 

was 

already bearing
multiple crosses . . .

but who isnt ?

hit the metaphorical refresh

& watch myself meatworld buffer

i am the hungry circle snake

of the waiting room citadel

~

the finish line ?

i will get there

but then 

who doesnt ?

i got longs odds fixed

lay your money down

the finish line ?
i will know it when i see it
maybe / hope so / fuck it

i mean
what else am i going to do ?

& i did not mean to be

a son of plastic & oil . . .

~

you all . . .

all you out there . . .

you who ever played games beside me

you keep my fuel fresh

& 

keep it coming strong . . .

& play your games still . . .

i did not mean to be

lost in the concrete . . .

when the forest is so close

i did not mean to be

such an old & crusty

touchscreen child . . .

photo - BP M&S Night Fabric from the Dagenham Archive

MEETING AT THE WHITE POST TREE

get a bottle

&

a carrier full of cans

go

out

in

a

field

&

kick the empties about

laugh at earth
laugh at its signs

&

roll crumble-flake-slate

up an easy tree

smoke till then its dark

& 
the world

is unmade 
is fresh again

those

were

the

days

young & before phones
meeting arranged
at 
the
white post tree

20 pences for the call box man
easy stay out till three

from essexwt.co.org