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Monday, Oct. 15, 2012

The Blahs

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I die in an alley 

And am transported to another alley

Walls of thought run strong and high

Incandescent light bulbs

Evaporate from sight

I find myself soft peddling 

Received pronunciation

To the post-church crowd

As the honest voice grows moldy

Shrouded houses ghostly cocoons 

This distended landscape is morally horrible

Developing without eyes

 

Angry brains of infancy

Pulling up the dirt on their way to the grocery store

The past is a puzzle thrown together 

What of those colored pieces?

Assemble again the bed, a fine technique

Tesserae pattern or picture. Abra

Cadabra, a fine dress of shells and ivory 

The expressionism of the ancient world 

 

Future’s subsidized vision blows down 

This feast of carrion and squalor

Receding memory’s spatial branding

 

 

 

 

Paul Vogel has spent his entire life in Milwaukee and is currently an instructor at WCTC. He is also an Eagle Scout.

The Blahs

 

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