Friday, October 17, 2014
A marsupial haunts the street corner. The snake mouth-breathes
after puking. Victims of a Star Wars way of life.
Artificial intelligence stimulates a flash of pastoral sauce;
volleyball and its hubbub; little tweets by a drone inside a crate.
It’s a spectrum that will unhinge its darkness, only to let it lie prone
in the worst sandbox – a cactus in its concept cage, a shopping trolley
and its embedded wolf. Both perched somewhere in the dark theater,
game faces on, glimmering like garbage.
Moon-aesthetics tracked through the museum
by my boots. As Ghostbusters we carefully weigh
our vacuum tubes, socially, love straws though
which a cheap simulation of care may be
sucked extinct. But sleep’s gun
is a spooky banana – I’d damaged a restaurant
by microwaving foliage in a normal oven,
releasing the modern chemical.
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