"There's not much doubt in any of our minds that no complete idea springs fully formed from our brow,
needing only a handshake and a signature on the contract to send it off into the world to make twenty-five billion dollars.
The germ of the idea grows slowly..." - Walt Kelly

Tuesday, July 2, 2013

Bank left and don't look

All these shadows are murderers,
arms up, begging for features,
sent back in time with a flash of light
and a convincing kind of sound
that left them stranded on a brick wall,
on the school's concrete facade, and
on the picket fence - no, inaccurate:
The fence is gone, too.

Playing on my iTunes at this very moment:
Tame Impala, Edors Toi


  1. Holy shit Paul. This is a good one. I feel like the opening line primes you to expect one kind of thing (it's very noir-sounding), but the poem abruptly turns into something else entirely, so abruptly that I hardly even noticed it. And I'm surprised the Tame Impala song you were listening to wasn't "Apocalypse Dreams."

    1. Wow, thanks man! The opener was the first thing I came up with and then it developed in a very interesting fashion from there, so that's a very fitting analysis.

      And yeah, Apocalypse Dreams would have made more sense haha. It was next on the playlist, though.