Saturday, 7 June 2014

Slash for the Lowlands #3 by Glen Armstrong

Hang up your pants.
They should be placed soundly
in space, green against black,

away from the three-ton dog
or any voiced concerns about the gravity
of the situation.

Depending on what that means,
the size of the airport, the amount
of skin and the available combinations

of frames and mattresses,
the dignity of squares where people
used to meet

are all up for interpretation.
That mix-up between the visible
and the abstract still needs to be resolved.



All fables based on human interaction are on trial. The man who hangs the microphones does so for money paid by secret societies that exist to promote safety at the expense of sensation.

Glen writes, teaches and edits Cruel Garters just north of Detroit.

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