Little Typewriter Summaries

I remember those poets
And their fervent love for typewriter summaries,
Little cut-outs typefaces and such,
Signed with lush aliases and tiny black hearts.
One last rush for some academic honesty,
Little typos too for golden realness,
Some marvelous subterfuge.
One must admire this fancy
with some overt scorn and salt.

You cannot write,
Of things you have not fingered in the dark,
Or tasted, or killed by hand, or died well from,
It is futile, you see,
Piss on the sun and all.

Clippings of their infection spread fast online,
For mass hypnosis,
and it works like juju.
We are all amply fucked,
as the saying goes.

Advertisements

Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s