I walked the night with Benny
Trying to find a door to a bar
Still unlocked
He went on and on about
Urbanism, subcultures
and self- referential
City jive. My legs were
Two motorbikes
Going off in different
Directions and fast.
“It did not begin with Cage
Acoustic ecologies predate
Electrical recording –
We’ve lost the
Source, man”
It is always the same
The same recordings
Rewound around
My ears.
A baby screeches above us
Benny pulls out his
Dictaphone like a
Quick draw and
Shoots the window
“Got it!” He plays it
Back, lo-fi baby
Caught forever in
His small freckled hands.
He rewinds it and
Plays it again
And again and
I see there are
Worse hells
Than the grind
& then there are the
Immortal
Babies of
Limbo.
