I thought I was going to a workshop on unfinished things and I found this today in a folder, forgotten about and saved in the middle of the year. I’m not posting much I know, I try to keep things back so I can send them out and will then think of putting them here later (a reversal of my past practice). I’m not sure of this one.
Used, used badly they fall into disrepair people, not exactly gadgets, tools not exactly not machines played for the winning spinning tops over which overgrown kids gurn blind to their status given something hard they learn overwound, scraped, scratched hidden, better unattainable, the back of the drawer their place to dream of healing, growth’s freedom touched by an odd moment of sun the rest swim in treacle doing their best unheeded A. H (14th June & 1st December 2021)