Season’s Stills
April 27, 2009, by Homme De Sept-Iles
in its absence
spinning
it finally stops
becomes a portrait pile
a series of moments
chilka plastic curls (on your Kenny
the unedited Doren room
the blackroom scraps floor)
lifted from phosphorescent juices
tray drops (distilled persons) lemon juice vague
images watery
hang unphotoshopped
under Peter Parker care
lampooned , grimacing , cracked laughter
the rows and rows
the images coolirised
memory can browse
the movement becomes meaning
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