Since Negrodamus Negronoshowed..
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Blinded by
madcap lanterns blocked by month-old
bird nests, filtering the light
into many piercing beams
the orb settled its score and placed a fate
on autumn, and now then winter
Crickets and cicadas
forced days, long and pedestrian
to make way for blue nights
So the crimson nails
of summerheat leave bleeding pockmarks
on the throbbing heartbeat (citizens)
An old man sells
warm, viscous beers from a ratty brown knapsack
in the park.
The fountain sputters and sweats.
A hoodlum takes off his blue and black Yankees
cap and clears the sweat from his brow.
A worker leans heavenly on his tool of destruction,
the phallic machinery punching through dusty
concrete before a luminous jet of water trickles and then bursts.
The shrubs turn green overnight,
like the flip of God's switch exploded green paint across
a dull, faltering canvas.
Twelve old friends share four pints of apricot beer beside
a high definition TV, gazing at a black and white film,
while a ceiling fan half off its hinges turns, and turns,
and turns.
The skill of an artist,
is to make the living look dead,
a sweltering, leathered fashionista
ponders as he paints, in water colour,
the vista of a thousand summerdreams.
He inhales frantically,
the bulb of the cigarette turning vividly orange.
His painting is quite awful.
It lacks depth, technique, proper colouration.
But for that moment, the people stop,
the world stops turning,
the people stop turning,
Everything comes together.