ain't no progress

clam shell bake sale cleave those in two to

find a record catch throw the smallest ones

back, crack the shells of the big ones, use

two hands, let your tongue do the walking,

the grotesque body spread open, the bloated

mind, coated in thought. the smallest part to

the largest part together side by side packed

like a tight tin can. the speed of time

arranges us in rows, ticking off names and

assigning seats. here I am at the end of next

week waiting to meet you at the train with a

bag full of ash and a mouth full of sticks.

when only last week I lounged around my

mind a balloon on a string floating up to the

ceiling, floating up to the sun.


words: Emma Barnes, NewZealand/Japan (Elbows on the Table)
image: Peter Schwartz, Maine (amnesia diary)


BluePrintReview - issue 16 - Lost, Found & Stolen