Don't Walk
headlines reporting a different
quality of dreaming
experienced by an immobile
population
a slow wade through
submerged streams of distraction
now could be the optimum time to have
comforting Lovecraft reimagined in friendly
terms – safer zombies – a
multiverse reboot calibrated for
nostalgia – an edgelands fan site
to suck down pleasing palliatives
to sink beneath piles of
sugar-dusted fun fur
to tuck in to fatbergs
clogging the entertainment conduits:
but the dream machine dreams dreams
beyond the sponsors’ sightlines
story arcs collapse
revealing hidden vision
the screen assumes the predictive
power of weather-sensing seaweed
nailed to the wheeled hut of a sepia downland
shepherd – a workmanlike tool
for prophecy
flicking the channel blocks like tarot
cards
illuminating unfixed
locations
commenced a regime
a monastic marking of the Hours
using TV series as the objects of meditation:
9am walking flying bases with Mascot’s Agglomerations of Shift
2pm walking the curved corridors of Stateroom Triad: The Nice Gentlewoman
4pm walking the floating passageways of Seance Pavilion -
switching to films at weekends to vary the texture –
The Lot of the Riots trilogy; The Hurricane Gantries series;
all the Stateroom Triad films from The Motorcycle Pierrot to NeoGene
watch enough stories flowing
through screens and you come to know
some things:
bluish light fibrillating over twitching limbs
is bad news
spreading black veins across the temples
is bad news
eyes turned completely black:
the worst
new brighter beings get
captured – suspended
in gel – disassembled –
warehoused on the outskirts
(the second season wasn’t so good but
you can buy a copy of her jacket)
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