is it enough?

from another time

 

it starts as the infant who only knew a tiny world

a pocket of air that reached

no further than little arms reach..

before it was launched into world space

to be hungry

to be fed to know and to see everything...

before it fell

exhausted

and turned in on itself agen

to hold its own hand

in a soundless

lightless land

wanting only to block out the excess

excess 2000 something

two thousands of all and none of any

two thousand bombs

two thousand and seven thumb-sized record players

two thousand and seventeen and seven soft porn pop stars

 

and then ran

like a dog dazed

by traffic

to hide

in places of the past

that spake to a longing for simplicity

and did not understand what was to come..

that hoped for it

feeling the edge of it with excitement

 

ran inside

to delve with newness

through the ears of a european cine-man

rich with auras of implausible beauty

palpable with a sensuality

sought long nights ago

with those who choked

in bodies spindled as the weed

that warmed their throats

singing their own scene

and on their own movie screen

sipping wine wading

in a pool of timeless mediocrity

as though no-one wanted to work for it

 

when someone sent shivers

up the spine for the first time

leaving behind the longing

that can never be sated

or bought

like you can buy paint

if only now to hang on the wall

or to play it over and over

to remind us

that we have not gone numb

in this dumb throw it out

run it by you culture

and we have not been rendered

immune to it