Never Mind the Beasts

Memory Clouds

. . . the most benign symptom (Roland Barthes)

memory clouds, as the say, feed
on mountains, endless
hover that dwells, or dwelled
elsewhere, and yeah
behold a punctured
tyre, nightfeet across
swollen floorboards, each
perception divides itself into
earth and air.

In the theatre
of crashing streets there is:

a ladder of bird feathers

children
mock smoking
with broken
twigs

a face
painted
in coal dust