"I am not quite sure what you mean by 'being on the brink of form."
"It doesn't exist, it is a mirage." -Jason Snyder
The proud and the naive pop reasons like raisins.
Raising the call of inspiration, a reaching treble
Which uses clauses from the book that nods and claws and routes
The crowd of loud patrons distilling verbs like "cousin"
And adjectives like "me" into a spoiled whine
"See a brother or mother who might have sprung from a
fictive and sequential fount", they will say.
"Hear a dip and dial, a trial by which we are saved", they will say.
Say, say, say it! Say that mirrors listen and microphones feel.
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3 comments:
hmm, is this about politics? The massive ignorance of a mob?
It's about constructed perception from a soapbox-as banal as the raisins which were once reasons.
This piece has grown on me over time. At first I thought it was a little too flippant, I knew you intended for it to be so, but it still kind of annoyed me. The more that I read it though, the more I get drawn into the fervor of the moment, I can imagine being the crowd that eats up any banal post-reason rantings. I also think that this is your best crafted work so far, it says a lot that while I don't understand half of what you are refering to, I still get drawn in by the tone and rythem of it.
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