Friday, February 27, 2015

Latest Poem: My Illusory Comrades


 Shriek squeaks about the true heart and mind
she has been with me since we met on E. Ohio St.
the eponymous Slug complains the world has become too safe from itself
some spokesperson has to dump the suggestion box into an inchoate law of average
were we all doomed by the television?
Should someone prune the rampant social Hydra?
Couldn't we all revert to being tubes in a giant Philco radio?
At times it seems the answer is music
at other times math and science ride in like Randolph Scott
a lot of my people are lost in the 1960s
we've been hitchhiking on this complex of ramps off route 279
trying to reach City Hall
with our boxes and boxes of frankenscence



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