Under the mining operations of
the moon, continental drifts of cloud
collude and a pelican scaffolds
the air. In cities, bricks sweat. We
are blinded by the rush to live;
keep it moving, says the sense of loss,
our common language. The information
Super Highway informs to inform
supra clicks the instinct. Hold on
screens survival. We are built upon
reflection; under the arch of the railway
see the conduit flow & steady in the
round. A piece of hill lights up and
beneath it shadow so shakes the net.
Hear the sheer drag of scythe on metal
the shunter makes at the curve of the
viaduct while, with elongated wail, rolls
three spoil-wagons to the hollow hill.