Friday 7 October 2022

Ah beautiful sky, (draft/unfinished)


Ah beautiful sky, 

there are service areas in my 

eyes are jeremiads against the state 

a coat of shiny panels, 

remembering you are 

a major Blairite project

failed past the black fence 

lies a green expanse

a no-man’s land

on a putative building site 

you are now part of the post-boom years

its tortuous multilevel intersection

acquaintances are somewhat less. 

Ah Beautiful sky, 

petrifiable its coherent core 

ally civic, but it’s the interior, 

the actual use of the thing 

that sets it apart

a short hill – office blocks 

you now inside anti impositions

what goes inside the building 

is so much less now 

acquaintances are so much less 

now no return pendulum just

zoned plant life, 

cubic grey urban.

Ah beautiful sky, 

the feeling of light, air

shuttering on the boom’s last word

rich in potential associations

housing is a Big Yellow Self-Storage

making them feel like

so much less past the black fence 

lies a green expanse

a context-free Big Shed

on the edge of a motorway

you smile on the edge of a 

a wire mesh being constructed 

to preserve views outwards. 

Ah, beautiful sky, 

the face is the future data site

‘Zone 5 Strategy’ pulls inward 

up a concrete core 

in enfilade black steel laws

we have everything to live for 

the walkway stretches 

metal-clade tube of 

a grim office its sick building 

syndrome its air of hopelessness 

covered in desperate cement 

singeing cut budgets

streaming through industrial units.

Ah, beautiful sky, 

a hill with car park lights

the aluminum balconies 

stapled fields of dreams 

here is the feeling 

on cantilevered platforms 

to view something like a glass atria 

inside Big Yellow Self-Storage 

big sheds spiraling plastic-clad 

buildings shaped like a Rubik’s Cube

instantly recognizable 

to anyone born there 

a steel column with twinkling lights.

Ah, beautiful sky, 

that can be controlled by text message 

skylines that stay the same 

dozens of pipes neon-lit 

and topped by flares  

sponsored by a benevolent corporation

but here, unlike the pigeon shit  

walkways is the new industrial 

Jobcentre towers;

Here is a series of looping cul-de-sacs

no local governments, 

no aesthetics no democracy

twelve roads at once.

Ah beautiful sky, 

dead time pinched and minuscule

‘It’s a nice place’ pieces of amenities fall out

sub-components break the enemies of enterprise

‘For customers’ use only’ signs

in McDonald’s and Wetherspoons

its air of hopelessness is aura

nevermind a flower 

glass concave like a chest 

Fenchurch Street someone said 

Neo futurism London E3 

during the public inquiry,

reflected sunlight brise soleil.

Ah beautiful sky, 

to smash and singe fabric and doormat

our city allies peel away 

nothing much left now

walking the husk perimeter 

feeling the downdraught effect

as a sensation of hard vs soft 

Takeoff feeling everybody feeling

like taking control floating like a 

silver lining and what is 

visible in the distance, an epiphanic view

lurid scarlet weightless, beatless with its cold 

open air the surface of things.

Ah, beautiful sky, 

a ring of sunflower lanyards 

where everything is 

extraordinarily dense

in the centre – especially at night, 

when you can’t see

hypertrophied apartment blocks

you find that rolling feeling 

that occasionally sublime effect

waiting on each little unit

in the light to be yours alone 

and forever not Equity Sharing 

not Contract Theory not.

Ah beautiful sky, 

the relaxation of assumptions 

pleading in a hole 

making an argument 

for this or that more meaningful 

than before perverse incentives 

a callback agency 

costs like a default rule 

there's a crack in the floor

like shibboleth in the Turbine hall

and eventually there will be a scar

and that's how it works 

in glass and plastic houses.