my cat brings in
an herbarium of
dried leaves
that I tread into
the carpet when they are
wet and black
enough for Pound
the vat of summer
has long boiled over
the days are short,
short-changed and
growing longer,
lost and found
so bored
that I ponder
the future of work
what happens when
new technology
is so versatile
that it replaces the
‛new jobs’ that it ‛creates’,
along with the old
ones it destroys?
what happens
as we all 3D-print
the forces of
production,
breaking the mould
and the mode
asunder?
I stand like a
chewed pencil
screwed into a
compass;
my thoughts are but
laminated leaves
on a cartridge paper
sky
I go to school
lost and found
lost and found
again.
this goes off in all directions - interesting ones
ReplyDeletethanks — hopefully not a case of 'he leapt on his horse and rode off in all directions'!
ReplyDelete...all returned to the stable.
ReplyDelete...all returned to the stable.
ReplyDeleteI keep saying to myself: 'The vat of summer has long boiled over'. Really like it.
ReplyDelete