threnody of radiation
In the first half of the year I wrote a new sequence (which I'm adding to, slowly) called 'Threnody of Radiation'. It's a lyric elegy for recursive depression, a love song, a hymn to Robert Desnos and a homage to Mark E. Smith. I'm delighted that parts 1, 3 and 8 are in the latest Poetry Review. Here's one of the missing pieces, section 4. Farewell Europe.
This threnody
Threnody
Through the cloister of the underground
In the clasp of the commuter rush
I think of you in threnody of terror
Scanning the faces of thousands for a trace of fear
Crossy Road Android poker Emails on property
St Pancras foyers the free world of Europe
I hold the explosive of Desnos
If this weight was a brick it wouldn’t make clearance
Desnos committed to the deep image
In trance states Dreams Under drink
Lover, if you suffer pain, never fear the river Seine
The station’s forecourts & throughways
Cleansed silver-grey to highlight the ruffage of flesh
Tatty & textured Clutching this brick
Digital translates me to a safe equation
Fuck them
This scrotum-lined mannequin
Drawling into a hired iPhone
Is she on benefits or something mum?
Sounds like a lovely existence mum
She needs to get out of all that mum
Mum Mum Even cunts have them
The train leaves the restored carcass of Kings X
The poor in its ribs Nats in the ecosystem
Suits can’t think straight without them
Pylons rig the marshlands
Glistering cars cloned for the sales yard
Containers cruising a high-rise bridge
The paradox of Ebbsfleet International
No one seeks glory in trans-capital terror
I think of you clearly Your face
Amber eyes of Yes
This train pulsing to Ashford
I open the pages of Desnos
Meet me today at Montparnasse
Buy Poetry Review here. I'l be reading at the launch event on Thursday 10th October 2018, details here.
This threnody
Threnody
Through the cloister of the underground
In the clasp of the commuter rush
I think of you in threnody of terror
Scanning the faces of thousands for a trace of fear
Crossy Road Android poker Emails on property
St Pancras foyers the free world of Europe
I hold the explosive of Desnos
If this weight was a brick it wouldn’t make clearance
Desnos committed to the deep image
In trance states Dreams Under drink
Lover, if you suffer pain, never fear the river Seine
The station’s forecourts & throughways
Cleansed silver-grey to highlight the ruffage of flesh
Tatty & textured Clutching this brick
Digital translates me to a safe equation
Fuck them
This scrotum-lined mannequin
Drawling into a hired iPhone
Is she on benefits or something mum?
Sounds like a lovely existence mum
She needs to get out of all that mum
Mum Mum Even cunts have them
The train leaves the restored carcass of Kings X
The poor in its ribs Nats in the ecosystem
Suits can’t think straight without them
Pylons rig the marshlands
Glistering cars cloned for the sales yard
Containers cruising a high-rise bridge
The paradox of Ebbsfleet International
No one seeks glory in trans-capital terror
I think of you clearly Your face
Amber eyes of Yes
This train pulsing to Ashford
I open the pages of Desnos
Meet me today at Montparnasse
Buy Poetry Review here. I'l be reading at the launch event on Thursday 10th October 2018, details here.
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