Bronze
A series of lights sparkle the
switchboard , glass , jaw shatters.
Looking thru the microscope
to see a microbe settling down , quill in 'hand'
scribin' Metanarratives , MidWives and tales
of Fairie untill , at sudden a quark
shout quivers at the sight of each glass rose
rising out of The Black. Clean scrubbed of any
and all curiousity your aware of , as you
replace memory w-/ flashing imagery.
Quick ; stretch those doorhinge muscles
or you'll never live w-/ an impression
of Life. Current Events ;
Soaped imitiation.
Copyright © George Stal | Year Posted 2011
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