Minutes

written by Brian Archer

tinsel-tongued traders flummox the shirtless peaks of boxed-up children every angle robbed short for bubonic idols visionless   as eunuchs of industry dismantle the moon, graceless tides bend toward the ghosted and joyless broom (captive in their gainless funk, apathetics crown each hissing doctrine)   poster-eyed jesters in the penny-pinched comfort of corporate recesses smugly bunk before our very breakfasts, damning us the day longer   keep the faith! for it is useless   and be sure to catch the ivy mantras marking your page with stone-blind currencies   empty-speeched and laughing, the faceless rounding upon your picked clean bones

from the flank-less dues of subordinate breezes progress, I salute you

B.W. Archer was born in 1975 in Cambridge, England. He currently works as a Coroner’s Officer and lives in a small East Anglian village famed for it’s Witches. His poems have appeared in a number of magazines/journals in the UK, USA, Europe and Australia. He is currently working toward his first Chap book.

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