Wednesday, December 30, 2009

Daniel Yaryan


An empty revolver’s smoke
Lay upon the ghost town of seasonal cheer
All the bullets are shot
No one left to kill…

Even with shopping carts in aisles
Ramming ankles of civilians
Seeking half-off calendars
When the spirit is going, going, gone…

Spellbound by slashed prices
Until the trance is broken
Money-shot galleries of frivolity
Leave whores wandering – stranded in empty rows

Shadows of the new west
Flee in modern stagecoach stature sleds
Across boxy plains
Streams of faded memories dance

Sounds rattle
From invisible fingers
On rickety keys
Upon the abandoned saloon piano of our consciousness

Monday, December 14, 2009

Alice Pero


Living forever is difficult
when you are a blond housewife wearing pearls
pushing a vacuum cleaner
The dust could blow up accidentally
and cloud your vision
Your perfume might wear off
even when imagined by the children watching you
on a thin screen 25 years from now

Living forever is difficult
when you are a cute kid
posing for a diaper ad
Although you are sure this has happened before
they are applying powder and paint
annoying your eyes with light
and attacking your ears with cooing noises
Being cute could affect your judgement

Living forever is difficult
when you are a beautiful actress
with a perfect figure
and exquisite white teeth
playing a model part
on a syndicated sit com
Although your glow will last in Technicolor
Your wisdom might be limited by shades of lipstick

Living forever is difficult
when you have an obsession with bodily slenderness
and you weigh your existence on bathroom scales
You'll prove yourself dead in your clothes closet
Measure your life with a tape measure
Breathlessness moving your pictures
into a certain set pattern preserved
only as long as the film