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b-side

Toronto, 2011.09.08

 

We all saw her scream—

the Russian queen from Lisbon

in Persian rugs and copper art, her chemicals

feasting on the blood of the insane

as she stood unaware

in tired mutations of the same dream, sifting

through endless silos at the speed of light

static as a rock.

Slums big as mansions lay small under the night sky as luscious manifestations oozed out of towers in Berlin and through the sprawling streets of Tripoli and Teheran.

Screens pegged the masses, shining like the Mongolian desert, and sizzled Kashmir chased the icebergs north of 60.

          And the willow tree stood there weeping

                                       like a willow tree.

And the moon shunned like the moon.

And the stars shunned like the stars.

____

"b-side" was first published by the RPD Society  (Vol. I, Issue XII, Nov. 2014).

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