Tuesday, November 2, 2010


the collected layers of light
pile up like manure on the street,
a cracker-fold progressive wall
stinking of secreted iphoneless ambiguity,
the parcels delivered to each deteriorated door,
fuse with the recipient, glowing green
under false moonlight, exonerated moonlight,
MOONLIGHT and identity,
causing that miniature voice,
what's left of that little animal inside you,
to scream and burrow with red fingers deep underground
into the cool brush, where the clean rivers still run,
unencumbered by grizzly cybernetic veins and
dreamlike memory, that
FADES Fades fades
so quickly away,
and the decisions are calloused surprises
that cling momentarily
to blue flat calming television screens
blasting--follow me--
in HD.

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