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Monday, October 11, 2010

Lines from Club Charles

ix. autodidact

Another attosecond another metamorphosis
another Russian roulette of jelly beans.
Gather in stimuli--
fake ecstasies and press conference meltdowns.

Life after excitement keeps secreting new products:
170,000,000 pages or more
of interactive global index fantasies,
wacko textile designs,
sunshine you'd better love.

Omnipotent terror negates every fear.
Flip through any magazine:

You can feel the crashing planes
turning sculpture into sculpture,
events unfolding the way lava sets as it cools,

dirty pictures of sleeping canyons,
computer-modeling images,
the shaved rock of Appalachian highways,
glossy shots of isocelean hair,
the 30,000 years it takes the sun
to send its love this way
with a brightness blind as the cave lizard
groping for footholds in frozen streams.

I never could see
what was right in front of me.

My wayward learning maybe
confounds the few remaining
who take our kind to be a gem atop the kingdoms--
Human in the sense still propounded
by rarefied nuns, banjo troubadors,
neocons on safari.

But I know what a diamond's worth
to the pressures of the universe,

cuz I am just an object of divine consumption,
a squid sprawled on the cutting board
soon to be calamari.

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