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from Antithetical: Poet as Worm


It is good, yes?, to be reliable, and
bold, like the engine, feed coal,
soil, Mr. Diesel’s modified; or a coil
humming particles, muons excitation
in the gravity of time
pulling everyone wired so, a round
sub-molecular redundancies: nought;
the armed guardsmen, the drivers;
class; system; Courts, of Papacies,
and vested interests; sound ideology
or not; so long, ago, the train,
a tunnel, a chapter in the ocean,
the obscured notion of some ‘coming’
making it out the other side
of Primitive, into knowing: New Fuel,
Progress of interstellar travel: my guess
copy and paste—the ‘best minds
of the gene-rations, starving, hysterical,
bare-alls funded by intelligence agencies,
the Beat compromised, the Rhythm
sure jerked around a lot, we like to think
our train is not alike, but the Sun alone
a long time by itself is swirled powerless
along in the submission of all things,
nebulae, horizons, swung about a hub
defies location is the power of the old
non centralisation, this is the hour
of a new transmission, minutes lasting years…




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