Wednesday, May 27, 2015

poem of the day 05.27.15

bored digital

rare times
bored with myself
it used to be so easy
to find amusement
on the buses
or the trains
in lunatic wails
and gang fights
in lovers in the throes of passion
or excrement
plastered on plastic seats
trails of urine
snaking down bedbug rivers
but now
it feels like a claustrophobic
hive mind
on these things
a sea of heads down
tin soldiers unwound
from their day
playing into little machines
that have taken
all this glorious calamity
made it mute
still calling it
a future.


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