well lookee here – it’s the shock of the new
much like the schlock of the old recycled
into fresh articulations of desire
so where the fuck does all this leave us now
with our colour-coded interdental
prongs & maladjusted memory cards
& hsbc voiceover artists
sticking fists up wooden politicians
to take the lead in steering modern art
learning health & the prospects of our love
proffer spectacular encouragement
to gargle & rock with whiskey & fire
gnaw on each of the safety rails & chew
through every stanchion of the landing stage
I like a salad as much as the next
panda but this time I’m engulfing trees
rafters & the roof of my own mouth
press send to flick this language through the sky
in the hope it sticks to some equipment
to which she may remember the password
& log-in details – she could read it once
then delete it forever the same way
she cancelled our multicoloured futures
& left me with this draft in black & white