The footage was examined in a similar way I’d feel clay , the narrative was built from the research and footage, and needs work but it’s something I can toy with.
An egg made up of protein, similar in nature
Cells split, divide, develop, die
Politics natural (?)
Where is the wedgwood?
Digging from the burial site
There is nothing but tombstones
The shards of ceramic thread through
My swollen hands, slicing through nail
Piecing back time with nothing but sand
Who feels? The clay
Monsters, objects within objects
Making the foundations for more
Stacking each shelf with plates
How many more plates?
For a land that won’t house
them
Where are you Wedgwood?
A £50 pound cup?
I think I saw you in Devon
Where the clay lathered rich feet
Anyway you weren’t home
Amongst the crisp packets,
And broken bottles are pieces
that belonged
To someone
Now what we’re left
With
Homes for broken pieces
An escapade of wealth, in the midst
Of a beckoning fall
What’s left (?) everything
And nothing
The birds circle, each one takes flight
I’m accused,
Alien
I hold out my hands
Feeling the air between each finger
Failing to take flight, with clay wings
I give myself to the ground
