It doesn't matter, really. Not as many visitors come on Friday's anyway. I've never understood why, but it is consistent. Where do they go? What do they do? There is the drinking and the sex, sure, but that can't really explain it.
I've just been told that teenagers no longer use email. Many simply do not have an account that they check. There is Facebook, of course, but they are moving to Instagram. Somebody should tell them that Instagram is an invention of the FBI. There is no better way to keep records on somebody than that. But who will tell them? Conservatives have stripped school curriculums of all those nasty works that warned of such things. No art. No literature. Just study for the state owned standardized test.
When Romantic Rebellion is gone, what is left?
Deviance. Only deviance.
At least there will be that.
ReplyDeletehttp://anitanh.tumblr.com/post/32849022802/inspired-by-joe-gerstandt-by-anitanh
ReplyDeleteThe Archaeology of Skin
Thin linen prison bars
Wind tightly round my heel
Twisted and wet from the midday monsoon
That pounds
The tattered corrugated steel
And sneaks through the heat
Of this tropic noon.
From her back, ruins rise.
Inside the erosion,
I finger my blind way
Between each narrow passage
Wandering exhumed corridors.
I linger for hours
On the sand swept streets
Of her spine’s language.
At the temple doorway
Under the eaves,
I bow my head
Like a true believer gone to prayer.
Buried reliquary
Once consumed by dunes
Plays witness
To these solemn vows,
They are whispered, head bowed,
Without echo.
And each word vanishes
As it is uttered,
And slips defiantly into catacombs
That lie somewhere buried within
The sacred archaeology of her skin.
Matthew Retoske
R, So it seems.
ReplyDeleteL, Fingering narrow passages?