Saturday, August 12, 2017

Monaural Vortex, or Early Onset Nostalgia

PASTORAL LOGIC                                    for Clark Coolidge

I surfed through this nuworld this afternoon 
and it was shiny, noisy, clean and intact 
as brass tacks clasped in memory stacks, as 
phantoms on bicycles pedal soft into ruined futures. 

The earth unscrolled in folds beneath the furrows 
of human endeavour, though old not much wiser 
as if nothing had happened to turn in alarm 
from casually irrational acts and predatory charm. 

I passed the fields of crushed red brick 
where a viral sky shed fat flakes that vanished 
into robin's-egg blue smooth to the touch 
yet intricate as ice rimed upon grimy windows. 

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