36 – Voyager

I don’t know, man. My stressed brain is free associating. It’s been a long week. This is something vaguely space-y for an old friend.

“Tattered Mortal Dress,” July 2006

They bid you sit, and praised your decorum,
and then the awful fashion show began.
You shuddered at the glassy eyes of fans
advertising other forms of boredom.

A glass, a lens, a camera… an eye.
The closer you look, the less you can see,
nothing but an empty facsimile,
a sack of impulse calling itself “I.”

Broadcasting in wide band at all hours.
The neon signs have come between you and I.
But lady, I still swear by all flowers,
I always worshiped your shadow. Don’t cry –
when we were young and still had magic powers,
I broadcasted your name into the sky.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s