Wednesday, August 5, 2009
To broadcast bomb-blasts somewhere
Ambleside interrupts with dancing liquid lies of river lather
Which fret even uneven ground.
Pouncing flirt, she races momentary movements over
And over and tumbling against rock in chatter-tongues.
And this aggressive string of droplets holds
soaks your radio waves in sound.
She is the more attractive story,
The more destructive report,
The winner by force of white noise
Drowning birdsong, cries and
That come from places far beyond this
to this spokeswoman of a generation cleaned of its innocence
By its rancid, frothing, fidgeting conscience;
The cosmopolitan consciousness of the many happy
Whilst they forget the morning news lost
Behind the comfort of this racucous waterfall.