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This poem contains cull sons
This poem contains cull sons not song. as such, so much as guttural injunction: a music we forgot how to understand, since it lacks that carefully planned sweetness sounding instead of black-shod clockers-on, the splash and clack of shop fronts, cabbies sparking tabs in the cold of a windswept rank flanked by one of Monkchester's lesser monuments: a sentry stopped in his bronze tracks, steps echoing the strains of an old tune hidden in the genes of a new one - a left-behind accent fizzing at the back of my tongue.
This poem contains chosen sons not song. as such, so much as harsh-sounding command: a music we forgot how to grasp the meaning, since it does not have that carefully arranged sweetness sounding instead of black-shod workers who clock in and out, the splash and clack of shop fronts, taxi drivers igniting bills in the cold of a windswept line bordered by one of Monkchester's smaller monuments: a guard stopped in his bronze path, steps reflecting the melodies of an old song concealed in the units of heredity of a recent one - a abandoned way of pronouncing bubbling at the back of my tongue.