This poem is taken from Stand 223, 17(3) September - November 2019.

Drew Milne Poem and Emblem

‘... up to 53 billion nurdles may be spilled each year from land-based sources in the UK alone.’

there can be no song of the wall
of trumpets with soggy brickbats
to drown by the light of capital
and hope for glossy distractions
in a very real sense the arguments fail
growth by stretched finite metaphor
to accords or a logic of compounds
on a rate of profit that speculates
how the negative capture brewing
could still take back everything
but tends collapse and industrial soup
my product owned, my GDP blown
and everything that is permitted
in the sequence of bagging areas
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