Sunday, 30 December 2012

After Infinitude





To facilitate science's labour of disenchantment
the marriage of  the continental with analytical
they're erecting outhouses pro-rata
anticipating the arrival of drunks

The so-called speculative realist position
for the most part feels
like poison by the ice bucket
a world of abrasive scouring
inside the yellow gauze of
gondola jaundice

the last drink in
 the last bar in
 the last warzone

(I redress my shortfallings by b&w photographs from the front lines)
A hypothetical retroactive annihilation

of all forms
by extinction.

How the fabric of matter itself
isn't rankled, I don't know.


A neo-scholasticism appropriate
to transhumanist speculation,
dense and allusive

The age of
direct assertion makes most in its path
yield
usually,
It starts with one line or word
paint feelings absurd
not sure, or inflated
it seems feted, least of all
dark and unrelated
to the carry on of the great 
and gurning juvenile 
indefinitude                     

A painting a day
keeps truth at bay
I need a show in great haystacks
to feel gay
and keep bailiffs away.

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