Whitewashed, Z.Z. Wei
day-flying moths
if there is a thing the thing is not size or longevity
a man walks unsteadily above him an airliner
all its fly-by-wire now lost
its pitot tubes frozen
it hits the street
a vast breaking seagull
killing and crashing in wild sheets
of burning aviation fuel
taking out the toyshop
and the man’s new car
and his wife
but focus
opening out
accepting the limitations and openings
it is quite a sight
seeing that we are fucked
another man looks up from a Japanese fishing vessel
just in time
to see the cow coming down
before that
over-elevation hereafter bell the blue lovely
cowdrop of woodland-striking wingfangs
___________
Steve Parker
Review by William Fairbrother
These images of fear fly close to the ground, their shadows crawling. That point where narration escapes from its abbreviations and enters life.