Post-It Note Necrophilia I

scrolling bulge of the static frame
             surveillance scripture obtained
unoccupied screens
        image fidgets at intervals
13 1/2 seconds
     information mounted on the overlay
time     date
    camera identification
location
          name
reality distorted     sorted     recorded
              re-ordered
     frame      X      frame

Dead Eyes

A soft summer rain,
clicking of some insect or
raccoon or squirrel off in
trees, purple-orange sky
haze in the distance, beyond that,
the city, I walk out into scene
swinging trash bag, cutting down
invisible spider-webs,
the dumpster looks at me
with dead eyes like the dead
eyes staring out wet
tree branches, like the dead eyes
leering under cars, like the dead eyes
from the million cold bodies
buried in all the cemeteries of the world,
and I toss the bag into the
gaping black mouth weary of stepping
any closer,
walk out into the street
where I feel somehow I'm safe,
for a moment, before turning
back toward the old brick
apartment building
with its dark windows
watching,
and its own dead eyes
wondering.

The men take my eyes and go

my right eye feels heavy,
it twitches, argh,
I'm killing it, I'm going blind,

am I going blind?

remove your glasses,
eye sinks into skull,
I'm laying on my back,
trying to relax, it's not working,

there's jazz vomiting from
the black box stealing my view,
I suspect it, it watches me,
blazes a million invisible bulbs
into my eye, spears of light
and tiring hate,

put your glasses back on,
screen won't go any duller,
I'm forced to stay leaning on
my elbow, it's getting numb
so I return to my back,

the ceiling looks far away,
it's funny like that and white,
I watch it for a long time
until I don't.