Sunday 17th June


radio waves penetrate herds of buffalo clouds ambling across
a lazy sky. The Archers omnibus underscored by Skrillex doing
desert island discs. It’s sunday, somedays I don’t know which way
is up. Slow down, look, the sound clash of images come tumbling
towards us like circus clowns. The noise talks in tongues. The world
in friction, in harmony with it’s self, it’s only me that’s travelling
in tangent.