June Blast 61 Jun 27 09:40

June Blast 61 Jun 27 09:40

A city made of cotton and shit

A copy of Ambit, unread

And Chow-Mein in Chinatown, anything to delay

And in the end, let's face it, we're dead

Black Pepper, Cous-Cous, Aubergines

But the river, the river, it looked so cold

Dirty bikes, dog-shit, fish-wives screaming

Going to Thermopylae with an itching arse

How we fill with rust or sludge, it's all the same

I have no affection for my town

I used to think something would happen

I't a way of delay, but it will come anyway

Imagine someone digging up their tree, and quite unexpectedly, there's me!

Nature waits. It always wins

One second of unmade silence

Pimple

She had stopped her standing orders, ever neat

She tried the Tate and the V&A

She went to various bookshops, had coffee, looked at Big Ben

Sky dishes, tin-baths, Chinese brooms

That winter dawn, brown fog etc

The weather intruding into glass-walled rooms

These mind-forger manacles. Who was that?

We wake, hoping to say something

What if we all laid down in a pit and had time to talk before the dozers?

Where typewriters go to die

Why say, "Was it me?" Of course it's me.

Zeppelin