Monday, 7 January 2013

I See The Dead

Watching old films,
I see the dead;
Kissing on the screen,
White lips, grey eyes,

Hair of ash
And worms and earth,
Their essence breathed
Into breezes that connect

With one another,
Generations chained
By celluloid, burned
To dead pixels

Painting a future
With a past,
A past with a future,
An endless reel.


I see the dead
Staring back at me,
There will be fire
In my pale blue eyes,

In my pale blue eyes
There will be no fire;
There will be a fire
Melting my pale blue eyes;

A fire, gas-blue,
Boxes of my image
And images of me
On paper, in light,

A digital fingerprint
Too, boxed, driven
Hard into memory
Like coffin nails -

Not too much heat, please,
And do not shake
Or drop me, I am
Susceptible to deletion.

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