News
networks
The
television as an eye, a cyclops....
The crew
sits on the sofa.
Where is
the camera?
You see
your hands, your knees.
Are you
balding? With a bad spinal column?
The
margins of the poem filter live film,
a slick,
all process and information,
ripped
and redone for processing and informing.
The crew
now sits on the end table.
Food is ordered
in, chips
and chip
dip, snails....
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