Going home | the unpronounced alphabet by Andrew Galan
Going home | the unpronounced alphabet
when nothing was built, and everything was destroyed
in town we find an attic with rising evening music
when nothing was built, and everything was destroyed
texts represent compulsive reliance on marks on canvas
when nothing was built, and everything was destroyed
walk to buy her fresh blueberries and raspberries
when nothing was built, and everything was destroyed
the unpronounced alphabet is framed in green field
when nothing was built, and everything was destroyed
an abrupt interruption
you must be an international _______
a homespun _______ is not and never will be
worth anything in the world
savage paintings presage imminent disaster
an abrupt interruption
the colours are bright and biting
what eyes:
the monster
the group
the execution
an abrupt interruption
in black garden the vines carry blood
white hand opens new constellations
there are birds at daybreak
our sun is distant particles
in bed I mistake refrigeration for rain
an abrupt interruption
when nothing was built, and everything was destroyed
the yellow vest is my scarecrow
in town we find a sound filled loft
it is where we live a temporary lie
walk to market, buy glowing blueberries and raspberries
this becomes habit
an abrupt interruption
passing director’s office, she sits in darkness
I know tapping keyboard, the lights off
an abrupt interruption
these offices are motion sensitive but not too sensitive
an abrupt interruption
when nothing was built, and everything was destroyed
I trace my way to shopping centre
there trolleys are thunderous herds
uniformed men coral
when nothing was built, and everything was destroyed
it is sale time, preparation behind glass
for an annual ritual
an abrupt interruption
when nothing was built, and everything was destroyed
I push through heavy food court
people wrestle for tables
when nothing was built, and everything was destroyed
small child hops all fours across bench, sits to grab California roll
parent watches
when nothing was built, and everything was destroyed
I order three types of sushi:
• dragon
• salmon
• spicy crab
it arrives on thin black plastic, clear lid
wrapped in brown rubber band
an abrupt interruption
watermelons are one dollar a kilo; don’t know the weather
an abrupt interruption
can’t see the price of oranges
when nothing was built, and everything was destroyed
the blueberry boxes, two-for-five
raspberry punnets, each four-ninety-nine
they look stale
under fluorescence
I buy them
an abrupt interruption
the unpronounced alphabet is framed
when nothing was built, and everything was destroyed
take home fruit | an abrupt interruption
Executive Producers
Elliot Cameron
Daniel Henson
Karolina Ristevski
Sue White
