Saturday, November 24, 2018
NON-MNEMONIC. by Jay Passer
I liked it better when I could remember nothing
and embraced the waiting time,
telepathy just a step behind
the revolution of the planet.
She was an image
wreathed in arabesques, smoke
off the exhaust pipe of whispers,
I bought her a vodka grapefruit.
Those were the days
when the future was not only distant
but steeped in noir,
the allure of subtitles.
Unholy night. Darkness shrouds day. Gone are canticles of light. Dispeller of fears stands tall among despondent axioms. Flames on t...