Ghosting the Machine
Texture of Hastings: sun across the tracks
voice in trouble down the carriage emailed her basically
A reconstituted person talks backwards passing the masted gardens
bungalows massing for attack on the beaches
invisible Bulgars will overrun
Photons bounce on down to Cooden Beach
You can see the walled off sheep
In a hazy block of light
The sea is flat beaten up silver
I accelerated past rocks into first thought
Shacks roll into mid-field in depth
lost them with the shaking electric boogie
Southern services signal greenish arousals
Fold back the memory I folded in my secret grey meat
That I hump around the clock face
Man/machine interfacial:
Stanley the steamer crashed out on Daytona Beach
I collected the cut outs dreamed all the wreckage
BRM supercharged into burn-out
A smashed imperial dreamtime
Fangio blurring in screen dots
W196 eight cylinder is the Ring Master
Jack Parsons erected pyramid of smoke
to assist blast off/a bomber enshrined in fumes
