droning light afterswagger

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droning lightsculpture
chequered office hub
above the lavalamps
at streetlevel;
morphing hazeglowers

strangled by snakewires
a last smoke filled lungful

dot to dot 21st c. birdseye view


headscratching suitwearers are
placing spare change out of order
on the dusty gritridden pavements
their sweatsoaked suits
with soiled handkerchiefs


clogged telepathic greetings
electric shocks when received

the crosshatched wires
an insurged blanket
cloaking the city


the night fades in an upturned gradient
diffused by morning
the stumbling afterswagger begs
between trails of evaporated piss
and boxes of fleshless chicken

◄ pest inspection

barbed ►


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Cynthia Buell Thomas

Sat 19th Jun 2010 15:10

I think this is superb, absolutely fabulous. One of the definitions of 'true poetry' (can't remember whose) is that 'after you have 'paraphrased' all that you can, the words that are left constitute 'real poetry'. I think this poem qualifies.

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