Let’s go back a bit, into the Robot Melon archives. This poem by Peter Schwartz, where each sentence, phrase, hard-dropped bit is a vat to get lost in, the depths and swirl of each piece stacking and stacked. This poem by Peter Schwartz is one that sticks to me, or maybe I to it, or maybe us to each other, hobbling along like two bodies tied together in some picnic race that a thunderstorm rushed in on. “Irony as weather. A cement block, a pair of binoculars. The stolen ropes of/heaven frayed like an old weightlifter’s veins. The next obstacle, the next.” Now, we’re one soaking example of what modern life’s done to us, all of us, and our once sunshiny day.
May 2, 2013
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