Monday, March 9, 2009
Pulled magnetically down Nassau Street on an errand of antique persuasion.
Clockwork interior of an outmoded store that trembles in the arc-lit afternoon
Ripples along the gauze interior as decaying moments are sucked out of existence
And specks of light are visible through the weave
Walls fold in on themselves and lost routes are sealed-off along the
Fugitive colors run out before our troubled eyes—pulled magnetically back through Memory and electro-plate stampings.
An underground american and vaporous underground poems
A convalescent harbor at the bottom of a fleeting daydream
Eerie time-scapes and ripped-apart scenarios down along Squall Steet where it bisects Meridian
Electro-narcotic hum of Half-Light Street as time is pulled out and then
Blown down the hill of a convulsent Nassau Street.
Milk-tide shudderings at the bottom of a fugitive thought...
Posted by Brian Spaeth at 5:07 PM