Monday, June 19, 2006

47b "Tender Life"


An early work by the neo-progessive Icke, this comes from his short collection "Experiments in Shape." All these "musings" were untitled and so this has has been labeled 47b or a "Tender Life" by various editors.

Tender life, horrid cage, the saw chips wreak under paw,
Your life, poor creature, an endless wasteland of needles,
Acids and bases become salt on your wounds.
You are the holocaust to corporate greed.
The play thing of our science.
Voiceless and pitiable.
A nothing.
A life.

1 comment:

Xavier Martel said...

Icke's expression of geometry is nowhere so vivid as in this paean to a small caged creature. What is the creature? Icke leaves us only the most tantalizing of clues. In addition to 47b and "Tender Life", some critics also refer to this poem as "Runes" due to the strange scratchings in the corner of the handwritten copy.