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from LICHENS FOR MARXISTS

 

 

VALUE COMB

 

 

with some hesitation this

value of the lichen combs

and why x does matters so

that we’ve had our fun is

now specific to the viols

billowing into endolithic

vocal hyphae thread-bared

to be into sunny openings

there’s the eyes in sound

made by something as soul

 

xanthoria to you or yours

spectacular latinity swab

swatch so long dying well

the scars a ripped breach

mats in to thinned futons

will you be ours in rifts

my drift as topper leaves

our crust evening into an

unlearning blank opposite

the lunar hulk or carcass

 

a some such so slow wound

in snow toes strung among

proofs to the presence of

the hung gruel done flame

in the morphology of calm

murk could be our jumpers

for in lithographic henge

the passages from realism

to ism subtend a scarcity

a bent car in leafy grits

 

mm with an inch of a life

of air rolls over to tuck

in now which lichens call

syntax ungrounded a choke

chain in no a need spokes

run to brittles just keep

sunny side up with quicks

to soft tain of this rock

this ribbon to soft crust

will to wilt done sulphur




LICHEN TIMES: GOLDEN TWENTIES

 

 

when the emblem books riddled

to give it low in unmitigated

black hole futurism erring of

showing a radio here blabbing

sound experiments in mediated

mum doom zaum schoom the dada

chalk oils scored subliminals

 

in solar microscopes upon the

screen of white paper bloomed

unsatisfactory representation

you cannot experience the sun

but focusing your unit spines

filaments now reduced to damp

squat done of mild amplitudes

 

moments of known lands wasted

by the ennui of the precision

obtaining data for damper say

tooth of complete dark spread

to a friction radiation diode

spared from further eyestrain

and poor unconvincing results

 

aiming at destabilization the

sponsor is the bouncing spoil

so much in probability arrays

so disturbing we run to sleep

sheep over sheen over screens

a service industry revolution

spred thinner than doing does

 

the drift failure trial plays

dog-whistle racism then bling

is the buffed up brevity blur

evolving physical object bids

over the bridge to mild pains

where innovation is the noise

lie who will not stay in true

 

while the commentariat drives

into the sunset as a deadline

the ether slow up every rains

into the more palpable gating

glitch function rich chalkily

agog over results of eclipses

baying that no-one need worry



 

[Drew Milne’s recent chapbooks include ‘equipollence’ (The Song Cave, 2012), ‘the view from Royston cave’ (Wide Range Chapbooks, 2012) and ‘Burnt Laconics Bloom’ (Oystercatcher, 2013). He wrote Reactor Red Shoes (Veer, 2013) with John Kinsella.]

 

Copyright © 2015 by Drew Milne, all rights reserved. This text may be used and shared in accordance with the fair-use provisions of Copyright law. Archiving, redistribution, or republication of this text on other terms, in any medium, requires the notification of the journal and consent of the author.