If McDonalds were the memory of an authentic experience...
"I call it by a family name..." Nick Cave
Dematerialized, spores
would drop softly from dreams
like rehydrated clowns
who rise on morning lawns,
bright as half-moons of silly
digestive noises in drag,
and walk off carrying tiny houses
above a small rally of hands
in white-gloves over the implied
caterpillar bump of the horizon
into an unmediated flurry
of pixelated planets
and small crinkly objects;
all claiming descent
from disneyworld
in microscopic
post-cards of
parenthetical feeling
topped with suspiciously
sweet flavor-packets
of insincerity—
that wonderful cunning;
the billions felt
indirectly
of purest sentiment...
JZRothstein (updated draft) 2/11/2014
Poetry by Jeffrey Z Rothstein
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Written on 2014-02-21 at 00:01
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night soul woman |
night soul woman |