Hi fax

         (in memory of my stealings)


winter goes grey,
           as it should,
   somebody up there loves me
       gets moody, funky
     never no turning back
            like
            1984
the year of our fax machine
        & the 'o's of Adorno
at your place,
                  not mine
     & the modes of goo
              we wrought so well,
someone tried to
    'save me' from you
     & they did
            I tried to groan
            Help! Help!
but the tone
           that came out
     was that of
   'polite conversation'

              ~

clutching a cardboard cup
    of cold coffee
            throughout
the 25 minute presentation -
           his blazon
           of casualness,
au courant,
    a provisional philosopher
  fingering the bottom of the jar
for crumbs
              go straight to mute

              ~

but hi anyway,
     fax something by you
           to say for you,
we'll suck
    the last poetic drops
  & reject the 'market'
for good & sure,
       your duty to consume
                      scorned,
    never never no
    never no turning back
& what do you reckon,
               my wintry shadow,
                    my fraudulent duplicate,
     somebody up there?