Friday, March 12, 2010


Apparently there is a disconnect between our desires and the external world. this is clearly seen in the realm of the commodity, how all things are engulfed the cash nexus. seems like i am adding nothing new to the discussion, and yet it needs to be said over and over again. or maybe the poem itself is a Disappointment, i know i am not very happy with it.

Woolgathering mornings of coffee and shivering
Inane frail sunlight. Overcast of overnight rain.
Playing sing song episodes of fancy. Sun and shade.
Pale mild eyed lotus eating of melting butter
And viscous honey milk swirl of slightly smoky bread.

Days of rain mean the creek behind the house is in flow.
Fingerlings pierce and dart the bent over shore side grass.
The sun falls in parallel lines alternating light
And dark as the surface constant flowing blades shift.
Fluffy clouds disperse and evaporate the afternoon.
The wild new green grass over recent hillside fire.

Walking with the children in the humid afternoon.
The others in wide directions of moving one two
Three four, unknown unknowable. Dirty shiny clothes
Sweating and puffing to never again see never more.
No response no acknowledgement no feelings social.
This is how commodities freedom communicate.
And the row shelves of tin canned packaged food and drink
All worldly goods bear odious white paper labels
Of Arabic numerals and laconic symbols.
This is how commodities are presented.

And in the library excitement of knowledge fails
As story time lack of imagination and funding
And smug narrow minded babbittry of risk averse
Satisfaction scrimps and steals from future generations.
And the rows of books collecting hundreds if not more
Years of human knowledge and striving, numbered and priced,
Odious and laconic. A type of rationing
As strong as any program of war communism.
Frayed and torn covers, splitting plastic jackets, brittle
Cellophane tape, mouldy yellow brown of Bovary,
Seeking approval unsteady underlines of students.

This is how commodities are presented
Disappointing in the particulars.
Disappointing in circulation.

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