Wednesday, April 2, 2014

Plain talk from the fiction department

Born into a midnight sun
it's 1976
I'm answering my first rotary phone call
"No regrets" speaks the graffiti on the other line
"Schemers, dreamers, executioners, here is your land"

secretly, I revel in brilliance
myopia preventing others from noticing
everymen and quiet men
fly under radar
idiosyncratic documents, courtesy of the invisible people
...I didn't catch his name
maybe this what Clark Kent felt, dressed in disguise?

lights, camera, axiom

big dreams
gangster boy
no stain of years
no barking of dogs
just the sound of running water

there were so many dead bees on the sidewalk this afternoon
maybe they died in paroxysms of ecstasy, aflutter in the sunlight
rolling on their backs in glee
Spring being a dangerous friend

"there are problems in these times, but oh none of them are mine"

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