Traces in the Fog
Born into violence: the offspring of mixed aggressions, traces of sickly silver quickly infiltrate our atmosphere. Toxic clouds that sail the zephyrs, spurting their entrails
"this is sixth form poetry, not Keats or Yeats"
Born into violence: the offspring of mixed aggressions, traces of sickly silver quickly infiltrate our atmosphere. Toxic clouds that sail the zephyrs, spurting their entrails
Between synthetic, parallel lines drawn across artificially constructed maps, the clouds begin to form. Climbing upwards like giant anvils of cotton candy, a trick of
Clamours of circuits compete to complete composite puzzles that compound their complexity. Assuring the security of their concealed networks as they pan for digital gold;
Swaying steadily in kaleidoscopic fields, spectral fans reflect the turquoise light; their mottled aura straining spectra as warming oceans bleach branches and lighten latticework. Parasitic
Synthetic fossils adjoin the coastline. Fallen into dirty piles they wait to be shucked clean of sand, and mud, and debris. Flowing like tallow beneath
Drifting beside western coasts of uncovered continents, metallic leviathans stretch their sunken limbs. Hinged jaws spitting sulphurous seeds that linger beneath the ether; clouds condensing
Submerged beneath sediments of ancient ash and bone, the variety of absence suggests the magnitude of loss; high-precision ageing unearthing fountains that loom above the
Anthropogenic biomes cascade Across natural networks, Swarming across this backdrop With assumed transcendence. Broken footprints disrupt Fractured ecologies; Disremembered territories Whose buried cycles Are trampled
Looking down on jaded canopies, Blinded eyes quickly cast their Milky gaze across logging That persists without permission And wildfires that raze without restraint; Ploughing
Beneath dusted peaks of mountain dew A dense and rigid backcloth skulks, Worn down and compacted with Fractured decades of aged powder; Trodden into rocky