8 Beat

August 8, 2008
in Category: Blog or blob, Noise poem
0 1447 0

Atmosphere is mutating, making social space shift, as the drift of weather or not, gets a little hot. Undergoing warming, a global warning commutes its terror dawning, on days out of phase with ancient ways. Noise plays this cadence with modern malaise, a maze of anti-matter mutterings and prophylactic utterings, that proselytise with phonetic code, the genetic mode, of our generically engineered abode.


Cassette connoisseur

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