Life Skills Recovery Worker

 

Hands in trance formation; assume skills are  frozen out at distance of hermetic memory,

 Egregore of cloud-based disruptor sim scam.

Now what? What the fuck now. Memory grift, skin dance, what? 

Read like a prisoner 

Papers float in through the flap; it’s meal time. 

Hunger strike on the wing. 

bind hands submerge them deep in brain swelling hostage classical booze wound again. Tethered  monolith walled garden chains over cooked slabs; courage in the face of religious persecution. to read all 

everything 

at once the face says. 

Heart flutter death knell but it doesn’t change the immediacy of interaction.  still dancing around this swerving around that discreet wounds covered over with leaves.

 “What’s this, a prophylactic wrapper!”[1]

Julian of Norwich  divine  drive backwards strength to carry against winds of rubbish, waste destruction,

God allowed me to look at himself for a considerable time, and, as far as my simple mind could take it, to dwell on all that I had seen, and its significance.[2]

Hand wash back cadence; articulated slack line overtly so. Smoothed over bi-lingual remedies frigid conclusions keep harm from Armageddon.

---

[1] Seinfeld, Season 5, Episode 10, ‘The Cigar Store Indian’

[2] Julian of Norwich, Revelations of Divine Love, trans: Clifton Wolfers, (Penguin, London, 1966) p.83

 

 

Adrift across the dusk light, at the smoking end of summer. The air is hollowed out, briny, blowing across the palm like so much glitter. Midsummer distilled into a nothingness where even the car drove itself. Sweet harmonics fill these ears. All that is left is blood pressure inside the skull bone. On the corner, domestic and traditional ghost’s hang together inside shrouds of cherry flavoured vapour; their advice is holistic.   

Coming in closer, holding to the sill of crushed shells and random foliage sharp against bare feet. The old place in sight now; perspiring in stillness. Heat haze on the road hums with carrion and a carpet shade of pine cones, pressed under a seedy musk of toilet tissue florets and furtive debris. Tidal worn out faces, peer defeated through laminate windows edged open to ventilate hot nylon atmospheres. Taking hold of the footings we scramble over sandy clays bright orange with jagged shards of flint. Do we know the host that brought us here; what value is it to be worth something to somewhere? 

Out over the ghost town road jab the accelerator to outrun delivery vans. Value and quality collaborate in steel, sweat and then some. The place is artificial now; a memory museum. Old municipal buildings are now castles; rubble islands the nation’s glands; pulse entrails force open networks of sealed errors. 

Past the deserted bus shelters where long slow drones pulse; marrows grow to interminable widths in semi silent greenhouses burdened by hogweed and gamma rays. A voice surfaces through the hovering dust motes ascending into recognisable speech patterns like a jellyfish illuminating from the deep.  The sound of ceremonial gongs; a magpie clacking at the air behind the tree outside my window, “ Do yourself a favour boy, stop lying down all the time things get tough, get up and run, live like your life depended on it, go now, faster!”

 

 

 

 

 

The Krux

(dedicated to D.I.X. everywhere and forever) 

Moving through black landings flicker light possibilities, zoetrope reflection osmosis real fulgent battle worn croak uphill to vent to want. Gather multiples all reflective suggest onyx hope reject played and won on this stage here now, this grassy knoll. 

Magic and resistance great pleasure born supplicant notice weary destroyed by cynic flex park-o-meter check basalt weight conjoined pair to incubate stems.  Heart’s weight mortgaged Nintendo horoscope deals in strip mined official stupa plead gallant in striped plain.

New fixity gammon rind flotsam of The Gyre pulps up from below; grief bombing meteor showers of plastic saturated Aurelia amrita glug against the hot tides. Worm hole shaken foxes blubber wave fat bole increasing levity stuck inside holographic seam of crust mantle.

 Exhuming Autumn

Today in a doze

Floating backwards through streets stained in grey drizzled memory,

Splash in puddles of tranquillised silence that merge in the glow light of refrigerated shadows

Where sinister snacks audition for minor parts in today’s feature.

A light misting of rain cools the TV frost

I am not here or there but defy this accuracy by pressure of intensity

Scattered rooms across the east and west of the city contain stashes of memories

Like everyone.

Sash windows panic,

In an old antiques centre the fresh clatter of mossy brown furniture casts damp patches over fried

breakfast in Turnpike Lane; cats thud between rooms, take your best shot

Old crusted heels

But miss

Rubbed hard, summoned into action once more.