Wednesday 13 January 2021

Reckfuls Final Moments on Twitch (DRAFT/UNFINISHED)


H.M. Factory Inspectorate

on swan pedalo holding on

the repository roll

to ameliorate sooner or later 

a floor operative all the way 

back to Heaven again 

I planted secret radios

on the banks of the Euphrates,

held together by a dry leaf picket line 

and carried on sniffing ether from my bowl

O to toil in the rubicon 

makes you sore bellicose 

before the barcarolle resumes

as happy music, you cry out 

rooted to the harmonic spot

teeth-whitening indoors again 

“It is the next day.” no teeth

you hadn't realised nodding cruxiformed 

in the London sky beading red

I pray to the ArcelorMittal helter-skelter

twice nightly, reduced me to cathedral tears 

to drinking to waking smiling  

to eventually running as Oracle 101 

over creches of voluntary Hi-Vis blowing 

white flags from the Dream Station, unstuck

a concrete pillbox slips into shimmering pontoon 

I set North to a flue gas stack empty people 

reconstruct a kind of twilight of working, 

a sort of unblinking cosmic relic 

of spared hamstrings in Worker jackets

torn adrift to be today? 

in the deep morass of history 

the Dream Station sinks I lay out 

go back to the most insurgent rostrum 

I ever had mined 

my Hammarn soft-bed, unclothed

fretting and tinging I lay down

and equipment rends on in my absence

an image vanguard in pell mell

there was no illness inside me

only contracted speaking from above?

Oracle 101 'They do how?' versions of 

Monday converge in renal cortices 

as the New Dark Age taps my moth eaten 

hands swipes right off command 

stuck in I am scentless with peak freedom 

a red tape rolodex wraps around

my neck sheds a rubber stamp 

Friday my doctor throws the book

throws the gears of my virtual

skelecog in the choking fug 

reunite near the water cooler

but withdrawal time runs

down inside me I am sad to report

scarcity through a key-hole slither

I speak with my neighbour 

he says "Get in early."

helps the Oxford Mindfulness Centre 

comes twice a fortnight with my ether bowl

it drives a bendy bus 

usually found badly animated

'It doesn't, does it?' 

with fare-dodgers scrumming the rear

all falling off quiet as pelch, 

I take the bowl from a red rose

tattooed hand swollen with resting blood

O centurion of stale twinge

in my nostril and heavy antecedent love

white-on-red in a kind of English pastoral 

projection, I lay back its Reckful's final 

moments on Twitch 808 

do not interrupt intrusive 

for euphony