Thursday, August 9, 2012

Entering a Café from the Street After a Lecture on Political Philosophy

Brachycardic in the way of the neocolonial, populace-answers corner the market on the ragged food of data; but yes, we find ourselves, maybe, entering the streams of habituation only to startle the vat of choices that seem to be barreling headlong humming toward our snarled intentions of authenticity, 
And specific to a simultaneous saturation of deconstruction, two mochas, a shared muffin and the debris data of dredging keys enter a colossal but crumpled concept of stenography, during blindfolded eddies, humming with impeachment.
Then unfolds a causeway along an axis of social habituation; girls wear incoherent sandals.
A food emergency pummels the habituation of static-charting in the corner booth,
And there you are, more stern than the pacificity of a lake—
caught, as it were, during a perfect tread
along the prescription syntax of reticence.
A time of terrible suffering came
        and the comb        from your hair removed—
how then it fell,          like elevators        cut from the navel of the roof
all down your shoulders   my back   and arms
your head     on this little key of bones—
for love keeps ever so careful a set of books—
photos          each and every look
            every transaction
                     found      in the still
heart’s redaction.
For I will fall with you
               into this way
    of the furniture
                  we live among
and the nothing
     we have to say

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