CosmiKnot

  Let’s call it the scene of empathy. Let’s call it the hesitant sociological scene. The scene of the incalculable rhythm. It is a scene neither of subjection nor objection. Looking with this hearing is a kind of building with or bearing. (Fred Moten 2017) Oh Lucky man   Whilst you were queuing The earth quaked Seth asked if you could bite down And you find yourself in the washrooms Wondering if you really should Wash your mouth out with soap and water Excited to finally have this opportunity  To enact a phrase hitherto only heard In the echoing hallway outside  the headmaster’s office Knock and come in said the Pharaoh A machine whines and whirs As you wait for it to deliver its verdict You will grow up to be a parent with a fine head of teeth Well, if that’s all there is to it? You think I’ll take my chances and sit here Lapping up the applause As you stand to acknowledge your victory In the district school sports sack race Your thumbs squelch into the clay You pass the pot to the pe

  “My name is Ozymandias, king of kings: Look on my works, ye Mighty, and despair!” Nothing beside remains. Round the decay Of that colossal wreck, boundless and bare The lone and level sands stretch far away.   Is it enough to know a green space is there waiting full of potential?  Or are we alright with a green screen  backdrop of a landscape we have a vague idea of?  Ozymandias is Shelley’s meditation  on the vanity of human civilisations  and the Phyrric victories over nature.  A funny thing about the rising universe,  Horsham’s tribute in fountain form,  to their son is that it has survived  somewhere in a private garden.  The peculiar thing about a Percy Bysshe Shelly poem is that it can never be destroyed  by humanity’s drive for progress.  Unlike his poetry the landscape that inspired it  can so easily be destroyed for all enternity  with no potential for restoration  via creative proliferation of green ideals.   One thing this era of virtual life has revealed  is that the well

And so you have passed your driving test whereas yesterday you were a learner driver today you are a driver. A wiseman with a clipboard asks you to read the number plate. He recites the words: I'm happy to tell you you've passed. The carcass of the prey lies flayed on the tarmac. Steam rising from its innards. The world around the shopping centre begins to come to life. You are a driver you think raising a hand to touch the blood smeared on each cheek. Clunk click every trip only a fool breaks the two second rule. Yesterday you were a novice driving with a scarlet letter and now you are a driver in charge of your own destiny turning the key in the ignition reversing off the driveway into the stream of life. Fuck you wanker Have some of that It's all second nature now The guilt gilded trauma the dashboard certainty it's all there waiting for you  to slip into neutral.