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The Face of Murder

1.  et ignotas animum dimittit in artes

you & I read the puzzling pages
where Zeno tore the fabric of our pink paper brains
& within that spookiness of waves & particles
in silence, we shattered as billiard balls
after the breaking dawn of timeless days

falling dusk saw the owl of Minerva
spread Athenas wings in apricot shades
as the grey veil of yesterday
was torn asunder & washed anew
in the thundering unveiling of shadows cast by hollow frames

i traced the footsteps of my existence
along countless newspaper article lines
only to find that i had been blind.
a test-tube baby born & raised in Plato's cave
where my gaze had been hypnotized by shadow puppets
    mesmerized by cheap tricks
& victim of the military industry's projectile gimmicks
facing eviction into perpetual neoliberal hell
with groundhog Minsky moment's
         
  2.  entfrémdung

looking up at the clouds
contemplating death & Irish airmen
as i lay on my back in a dusty paddock
  where cattle once roamed
before being sent to the slaughter
    when suddenly i was yanked back into reality
with a violent urgency
demanding that i disclose the price of fish.
my internal integration turned schizophrenic
  asking 'what the price per head
to attend the sermon on mount Beatitudes could have been
  & were the fish locally caught in the lake of Galilee?'
the only certainty
was that Adam Smith baked the bread
infecting the loaves with leprosy.

    3.    la divina commedia // la vita nuova

the sapphire eyes of the children of men
turn to a cold, hard steel
their zig-zag skipping & hopscotch dancing
shifted into stiff, uniformed
rhythmic marching by de rigueur
as a segment of the fragmented
groundhog daze

amphetamine pills melt smiles
like a urine soaked water-color painting
the playground artists are shackled by forms
& straightjacket classrooms
designed for a caged parrot
instead of a songbird with an amputated larynx

turning & turning has turned to
scrolling & scrolling in an ever narrowing gyre
with the second coming delayed
for a worthy people when pharisees
see the setting sun & burn in the fire of their making

the long-hand & short-hand revolve in an infinite circuit
there are high-brow & low-brow hands
all pointed at the gyrating face of the weeping Jeremiah 

we have killed god & will do it
over & over again
until the end

◄ the fall (one size fits all)

The Cost of Paradise ►

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