Premise No. 1


Blimp soars through shelves, digital ballot wallet
While Eternity (usually light blue and soft)
In the background (for those who've known these productions)
Opts for a carbonizing rain, mapped out, rough crust
Flesh, fields.  It was Sunday.  Bright.  Ghost traffic.  More news --
Frantically called "events".  And later (soon) that "day"
Its cultural wing (absolver's racket) voices
Were at [pluralism farce] a slam (bam) spunk, bonk.
But how does Paternity, for instance opt for
Eternity? It can't.  Intention speaks that way
To remain (as some say) solvent.  So, mappings, yes
The blimp soared toward the northeast, but its function, stays.
Cars were in some mountains waiting to be mined, tires
Hadn't bloomed yet, in Burma.  It's been a good year
It has -- for whom? As some here crave stability
Also, no artefacting me-festivals, last.
In reference to.  And here come them pilots again
On tv, mics ogling them, but it's my job, sir
Yes, it's their jobs, sure.  Plus a miner's babe's been born.
You dig, and we'll take that, You take that, and we'll ... Rain
From an airplane, like in Da Nang, tonnage, voices
And add more coffee houses means more masking too.

Monday never really came, though some spoke it -- here
Sunday's Tuesday, as thin smoke, still gathering, was
By the tracks, stale piss, the plasma center (porch) was
Once on the eastline [several] What's the score, who won
The game.  Faith seeping through the German-made carts, ding
25th and Commercial, the welfare building
Mural, child astronaut, you could be this, if try --
Melds into (is that the moon? moon) three tykes pointing
And shovels to a garden (flowers) Big Sun, ding
Once the doors locked, a g-force let us know we'd moved.
OK, what about the reprimand given me
Just ten minutes ago by a super/visor
Some eye pointing out to her/his skewed sense of time
School being mere school, guys guys, gals gals, days mere days, no?
Like a recent rap says -- What's yo' name -- foo', I signed
The line, compelled, a signature keeps track of ... ding
Euclid Avenue, one-third of Detroit boarding
Next, landless Chiapanecans.  What's the score, who won
The game.  Faith leaking from the cardboard-made terms, tied
That big blimp somewhere about to rise.  Artifacts
Here come them poets again, mapping.  Redemption?
Potent motif because zilch (ever) gets redeemed.