Wednesday, June 27, 2012

a poem









not breaking any new ground here


to
tell you the truth . . .


  


the ground has been broken by


so many poets


stamped into centuries of books


the village wordsmith hammering
away


with rhythm and rhyme


virtuous poets uplifting ideologies


virtual poets digitizing emotions


over millennia minutes
milliseconds





phrases turned


re-turned reduced


rhymes repeated


words recycled


print cut pasted


lifted shifted


rocked dropped


trickle charged for new meanings


reframed for no meaning





it’s a wonder the words don’t
just crumble


under such manipulation


shattered fonts spewing cases


serifs


microdots


overexposed words peeling away


                        blowing
off like ash





a cataclysmic
storm on the horizon


a
whirlwind of words


tornado
of thoughts


poesy spinning


into a black
hole


until


no bit


or


byte


of
linguistic memory remains

No comments:

Post a Comment

Joy

Like the First Day colorful birds burst from hidden places among the branches soar across the water hover to savor  and absorb all that they...