en plein air

the phoney the fake the ephemeral take

but it isn’t it’s now and digging a stake

the paratext language of Derrida’s mates

I hear it I love him this prof from the States

he floats from the plains - a vortex - an ace

he preaches to us in a windowless space

he dreams of fine paper with nothing to say

no print is a language- the new sensory sway

do you see a book or a pack of A4?

the thing that is out there – metaphysics at core

he’s got Latin and Swedish - floats French ‘en plain air’

cos that’s where he comes from this angel of flair

the flair for the foible the global - this ‘look again’ world

the subliminal message no longer absurd

I’ll drive Route 66 to get in the mood

a disciple - a convert - I’m a liminal dude.

Liz Callingham

But I have nothing to feel but I’ll feel it