at 16x speed, their hands resemble ants scrambling over fresh carcasses--
tracing patterned memories of an old order that still pumps blood to their eyes and
drinks their regrets.
they cut past time spent on enemy images and romantic entanglements,
quixotic visions of mercurial dreams--
in remedy of gone opportunity,
weathered and internalized,
holding on like ice cubes at the bottom of a glass.
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Friday, April 22, 2011
grand vision
no one tells the truth
in dreams or represents reality--
only speaking
structural
averages of unknowing
institutions of totalization--
all participate in rotary circles of concentric memory,
nationhood-regurgitate, military, corporatized,
tentacle empowered,
weaponized--
but set apart; they glow the
amber sheen that reflects in each their other's
eyes,
mirror rivers winding towards landing strips marked apart
by runway lights and railroad ties, carried off in
shopping bags emblazoned with the esoteric codes of
boardroom inside gags, parlor games shrouded in cigar smoke,
talk of asian markets and the weary western gaze.
here, the violence of self absorption
winters worship of the crowd; it sustains itself on
the idolatry of ideal power, its lexicon of infantile attachment
in dreams or represents reality--
only speaking
structural
averages of unknowing
institutions of totalization--
all participate in rotary circles of concentric memory,
nationhood-regurgitate, military, corporatized,
tentacle empowered,
weaponized--
but set apart; they glow the
amber sheen that reflects in each their other's
eyes,
mirror rivers winding towards landing strips marked apart
by runway lights and railroad ties, carried off in
shopping bags emblazoned with the esoteric codes of
boardroom inside gags, parlor games shrouded in cigar smoke,
talk of asian markets and the weary western gaze.
here, the violence of self absorption
winters worship of the crowd; it sustains itself on
the idolatry of ideal power, its lexicon of infantile attachment
Sunday, April 17, 2011
old mornings
i knew love like christmas
iridescent wrap yearly
a gray morning's grim exchange
handed con descension
into hands uncalloused written
in a new familiar script.
iridescent wrap yearly
a gray morning's grim exchange
handed con descension
into hands uncalloused written
in a new familiar script.
Thursday, April 14, 2011
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
ngo
i died an asshole
in a foreign land
i came to know
in pamphlet sized polemics
masquerading as the memoirs of a nation
hell-bent on remembering
the last days/Golden age
that characterized their
sugarcane parautopian
masochistic wet dreams
in a foreign land
i came to know
in pamphlet sized polemics
masquerading as the memoirs of a nation
hell-bent on remembering
the last days/Golden age
that characterized their
sugarcane parautopian
masochistic wet dreams
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)