Thursday, July 19, 2012

An image of clarity or a jumble of echoes

I read greenscreen
for gray screen--

standing in the fog
a figure is bleary and
all lost--in the fog
standing off the path
in alleyways of the future--
standing menacingly, tho
just motionlessly there--

I read you are
your own mother
own father in the
bulbs blaring late
of that night conception--

a wreck-rack-reaking-wreckable
life--that's who said--under
your purple blankets at
night under roof under stars
under sky under the god eye--

I'm outta gas brother--fill'er up
there's 100 miles to piss in
this hear ungodly country
and I got the biggest fucking--
drops his anchor, cuts the gas
closes door--scene

was something I thought of
and just added--for kicks--
link to chain to holy gopher
morning--I was late my life--
take it--

fuck words--
they don't come
or being erased

I suspect that's true
hoarded--is it--it
ought'n'a be--ack
pause--wait, I ah, I
wrote about this before

but it was too late--

they posted all the
best actors in front of those
screens then

when we understood
the greyscales and blue lines
I wasted a good title on
that one.

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