Piles upon piles of dust and mold
Gather in a large closet up in the attic,
Where junk of memorabilia resides
Untouched for years as I scan the heap
Of treasures accumulated: a prom's corsage
At 17, shelves of dresses, high-heels that
Tell me now I have grown four sizes larger!
Paperbacks circa 1980, eaten by bugs
from a Literature nerd in grade school...
Journals theater souvenirs looking like
Fossilized antiques from medieval ages,
Along with broken Parker pens and oil
Tubes defying a frustrated artist,
With drawers of lace, beads, threads
As glue guns ( in yellow) stick on interior- design
Folders: then to reach out for music records;
Dollars saved in a jar as a novice in advertising:
Oh the thongs , underwear kept in cedar boxes--
A vision of dates with sleek metro princes,
Discoing on till they turn into wimpy frogs...
How chlorine scent jams my nostrils as I clear
The unwanted pile-- mounds of pile that
Stain my dingy face my hair a rocker's mop.
Die as I flood you with ammonia !
Not the keepsakes...but those stinking fungi!
3/2/2017
Unwanted Guest Contest
Sponsored by Shadow Hamilton
all at once (circumambient & endogenous)---
365 days, 12 months, 52 weeks,
24 hours, 60 minutes, 60 seconds & then centiseconds & milliseconds etc., etc., etc.,
(you can do the math)
one wo/man with eyes peeled screaming perpetually open
in front of their prospective
screens---
hooked up,
tuned in &
the electronic stimulants being shot back at them
flicker as sporadically quick & acute as the tongue of a hydromantes
dancing, discoing, salsa-ing
atop & alongside the very retinas now fast becoming one
with the screen that they are so very close to
adhering themselves to a new destiny
a new place in the fabric of time
wherein, the devouring mechanism
sucks in
those willing to coast the wave
in which drowning is no longer an option &
the burden (and quite possible boredom) of
immortality
is brought upon their heads
10 fold.