POEMS

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taxi driver

 

We are travelling at eighty kilometres per hour

in a tightly curving tunnel

and he really finds it necessary

to get so close behind

the car in front?

 

Yesterday you were talking

to the boyfriend of a friend of a friend

working at Europol.

 

He was telling you about

the international distribution

of illicit testosterone substitutes.

Clearly the Brussels Ministry of Taxis

is in on the deal.

 

 


 

NY AIRPORT PICKUP SATELLITE RADIO JAZZ

 

the service of access

   to continuous broadcast

      of uninterruptable

         jazz

 

the black SUV

   its big black seats

      the motor ahead

          growling

 

on the street you hear street noise and planes

you get into the car: jazz

you get out of the car: street noise

the jazz continues – you’re just not hearing the jazz

 

broadcasts, webcasts, whatever

solely consisting of jazz

infinite conjugations

of specific subsets of jazz

 

radio stations for specific styles:

the delegation of choice

 

   in some number of English kitchens

   radios are playing Classic FM

   to no-one because

   the occupants are out in the garden

 

here a sole criteria: jazz

get in the car and be driven


Through the bois after nightfall

 

If you lived

in the part of the town you are leaving

you would often

be driven

through the forest

 

Driven

to achieve

 

by what, exactly,

snapping at your heels?


 

Relation to an abstract shape

 

Airdropped in Moscow

   Or rather a smooth descent and a taxi ride

 

Land

   Apparently Birmingham is far from the sea

But this

 

Realise a sense of place

   Occurs in relation to an outline

Remembered maps

 

Trust in others aggregating knowledge

   Making coasts continuous

 

Very far from coasts   Feeling

   unmoored

 


taxi poem

 

Moscow

contains

traffic

 

                    9/19


walking poem

 

Moscow

built

for cars

 

                    11/19


 

 

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