I appear to have spent this afternoon changing the following words into different combinations, ghost faint images into faint ghost images and I have reached the point where I can no longer decide which is the better. The drawer beckons for that particular quandary. I had been reading something about how photographs will fade over the centuries and leave blank shiny paper. Given the present state of dubious narratives, false news and outright lies the poem was an easy write.
PROPAGANDA
The photos presented problems
having been badly curated
and too quick to fade
to a yellowing cream blankness
We were forced to trace the outlines
of the faint ghost images
with fine graphite sticks
which slipped on the slick surface
As we attempted to harness the past
to justify our political position
Even if I can decide the order of the words: faint; ghost; and images I am unsure that the poem is finished. As I say one for the drawer.
I've been listening to the expanded edition of A Distant Shore by Tracey Thorn, my original album is worn out. Such a classic.
Until next time.
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