Sunday, October 29, 2017

The Far Horizon, or the Photogenic Generation

Here's one I worked on and am still at. No guarantees.

The Far Horizon, or the Photogenic Generation

When was the building razed?
Who taught us the lie and promise of a profit?
Me? I only remember the gracious living of a yesterday on the sea,
the 38th parallel at a sweeping fifty foot above O-
ours was the salmon pink, squat home, a small
herb garden to the side, a patio out back looking to the mountains,
and on the porch, a lemon tree and table.
The Sea stretching to the southwest-
no sun or stars, though, only the waves and the wind and a beginning forgotten.

The smell, heavy and grating
as only industrial sound has been in recent memory,
is dropped like a piano from above.
The rocket is my only inheritance, my only table
on which to create any broad stroke and lasting impression-
this fear is Olympic-sized and as deep as a well-
extended stay, frequent flyer, positraction
for the paralytic soul.
So now, as youve already disposed of the label and wrapper and receipt,

we wait for the darkened show to begin

It's sort of an perturbed feeling;
low-down and resonant, like the rumble of low-flying B-52s.
...Only much deeper.
An emotion raised in water and brought down from high snow-
it's still good, walks long and far and remains deeply aligned toward the future, 
but perhaps not-
because food for thought isn't always food for the soul, 
and vice versa.

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