{"id":19768,"date":"2019-09-09T08:00:50","date_gmt":"2019-09-09T08:00:50","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/ink.verticalplus.co.uk\/archive\/?p=19768"},"modified":"2019-09-09T09:18:35","modified_gmt":"2019-09-09T09:18:35","slug":"frederick-pollack","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/frederick-pollack\/","title":{"rendered":"Frederick Pollack"},"content":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>The Job<\/strong><\/p>\n<p>Time was privatized long ago.<br \/>\nThe firm that absorbed it,<br \/>\na major multicosmic,<br \/>\nplans only to gut and chop and sell it off.<br \/>\nMeanwhile, those images you see<br \/>\namong our peasantry<br \/>\nof smiling Adam walking with a doggy<br \/>\ndinosaur are ads,<br \/>\nlike any faith or flag. Even your and my<br \/>\nown dialectics, gentle reader,<br \/>\nare like those ancient signs on kudzued walls,<br \/>\ndrawn painfully by hand<br \/>\nfor some doomed local brand.<\/p>\n<p>The executive in charge of what remains,<br \/>\nresentful, never at his desk,<br \/>\nthinks often of quitting<br \/>\nbut where could he go? Beyond the office<br \/>\nis no life, only time;<br \/>\nas if in a strong wind, he would<br \/>\ndissolve into grey dust<br \/>\nlike any supervillain.<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p>&nbsp;<\/p>\n<p><strong>Frederick Pollack<\/strong> is author of two book-length narrative poems, <em>The Adventure<\/em> and <em>Happiness<\/em> (Story Line Press), and two collections, <em>A Poverty of Words<\/em> (Prolific Press, 2015) and <em>Landscape with Mutant<\/em> (Smokestack Books, UK, 2018). Many other poems in print and online journals.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"<p>&nbsp; &nbsp; &nbsp; The Job Time was privatized long ago. The firm that absorbed it, a major multicosmic, plans only to gut and chop and sell it off. Meanwhile, those images you see among our peasantry of smiling Adam walking with a doggy dinosaur are ads, like any faith or flag. Even your and my [&hellip;]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":4,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_et_pb_use_builder":"","_et_pb_old_content":"","_et_gb_content_width":"","footnotes":""},"categories":[7],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-19768","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-prose-poetry"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19768","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/4"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=19768"}],"version-history":[{"count":4,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19768\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":20007,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/19768\/revisions\/20007"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=19768"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=19768"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/inksweatandtears.co.uk\/archive\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=19768"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}