Artificial Weather
Buoyant skies linger overhead, bulging at the seams with surging intent; capricious threats that fall indiscriminately against the statistical fortitude of our modelled routines. Searching
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Buoyant skies linger overhead, bulging at the seams with surging intent; capricious threats that fall indiscriminately against the statistical fortitude of our modelled routines. Searching
Falling seas break your skin, fabricated fractures feeding flareups with deferred certainties that linger in the tuff. Wearing welts like a crown, you proudly pronounce
Surging seas and weeping waves advance along your coast, probing buried channels as they break through the shoreface to drag briny fingerprints across weathered limbs
Under cover of violence we pulled you from your frozen past, geological collateral lying dormant in our hurried transits. Patiently you lay there, whispering at
Golden rays of winter’s sun pierce through the roof-shingle of the channel-sky, forbidden warmth enfolding frozen robes that shudder at the touch of an assumed
Stony gardens of shifting light sway vibrantly beneath the waves; rainforests of the sea, whose motely splendour permeates still waters with a pale and delicate
Buried beneath the snow line, these smouldering corpses begin to glow. Forgotten fires, whose reanimated embers burn brightly across the tundra; frozen bodies recoiling at
Buried deep beneath the tundra, frozen bodies lie asleep, waiting for the trumpet call to raise them from their peaty beds. Saturated with the fossilised
Beneath cloudy, frigid skies outcrops of fertilised laughter glare knowingly from sneering seas; their steady retreat stained by the crooked smile of those who know
As chimney stacks spew forth our tainted offerings of industrial excrement, dilapidated ventilators strain to suck poison from the saturated veins of concrete obelisks; their