Filmy collections. Flicker-by, pacing.
Frame by frame.
The tuning is buzzing, we’re not flying straight.
We must vary direction before it’s too late.
If I learnt this from scholars or teachers or fools,
I can still only say it rings true, it rings true.
Blinds roll-up and criticism wears its warty smile.
Bubbling up and under and shadows of sparrows remind me of now.
I am turning the dial, I’m turning the dial,
Attempting to catch a new station.