
LITTLE


BACK TO
I was back to
the futured
to my
old university
one of those ribald
dreams where
the basic narrative comes
courtesy of
capitalist content creator
and there I was
both ancient alumnus
and yet feeling
the total freshman
all my higher degrees
revoked
on grounds of
relevancy
struggling in the climate
contrasts to make
my way both
upstream
and downstream
intellectually frigid, frozen
broken
desperate to
if not remake
at least
reshape
the wheel
whilst the Sun scorching brains
leering contemptuously
through
the stratosphere
protoype for every
god Emperor, every golden
King
and, yes, indeed
I am afraid to add, every
trivial
trivial Dean
as I made my way through
the panoply of departments
renamed
where not structured entirety
every theory
so local, limited, narrow
yet
same same-same
not of the intellect
but of ideology
servile, appeasing, without
a mind
to contemplate thought
of difference, thought
of resistance
triumph of appearance
and death of shame
back futured, back dated
limbo lateral
shifted
what else should I say?
FLOW I came because of cash flow problems, ended up on the river which must have had a sacred meaning once despite being the colour of stewed tea but we all had a nice lunch — correction, everyone had a sensational lunch but me taking a turn for the worse tottering off to the tiny aft toilet (adding to the discoloration of the waters no doubt) Oh life, against the current, can be a harshly blended mixture. And me here because of matters of terminally negative cash flow not so everwhere: here houses big as colleges whose manicured gardens sweep down in lush green to the river’s edge and here is one strikes my fancy as an African replica of the Palace at Versailles lost in wonder for a moment of breathtaking economic speculation (Marx on the Moselle) but then time to go home the boat turned around. Post-lunch the workshop am here to facilitate running softly downhill.