Friday, January 10, 2014

Poem: Sync Fail

This recently appeared in the journal Offcourse , issue #55

To see it in person, along with two other of my poems, go here:

Carry On and Be Good To Yourself,



Sync Fail

drowning from the sky,
though it fretted above him,
its smoke the cowl of the rush,

it became clear that streets were timecards,
and cars ogreish,
and people had no face.

who dreamt this city?
what cramp in a convolution
of profit was he?

the ground slid oddly
in trapped angles,
imprisoned by red and green lights.

signposts, a wrath of spades,
threatened to dig the whole shifty thing
into the sewer.

no one was disgusted
more than they hid in a harness of fear.
they embraced the little treats, because

it made them feel Pavlovian and wise.
and the armamentarium of billboards,
and the pharmacopeia of glowing screens,

smiled on.


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