|||
Ghost town theater
nothing better than
breaking, entering
graffiti spread on posters
no movie reels to be found
back door was simple
already pried open
moldy chairs and dust
a silver screen two years retired
teenage ultraviolence
costumed characters
cutting promos in the dark
we had no respect
until lit with flashlights
to see a world we hated
no special effects
the safest type of cruelty
real to us, not you
glass cases long too empty
no concessions for families
money failed this place
where arcade games belled and whistled
plugs dormant, shadows,
noxious mold smell overwhelmed
memories of make believe
blockbusters once sailed
here on this tan concrete lake
lines, great ticket sales
demolition is progress
so we come here to pretend
square, circle quiet
unprojected, bare, empty
we performed we did
all those battles never hurt
camera captured all
mothers don’t let your
sons become pro wrestlers
wait, no, yes, please, do
mothers, accidents will happen
in rings and drivers’ seats like
car 450 splash
backroad grass and ambulance
ride to new distance
graduation will split this
tag team without a run in
chair shot cash in heel turn
military, cameras, music
empty theater remains
temple to commercial failure
hope, a bastard powerbomb
before nom de guerres
crowds, houses, facts and figures
the champion reigns
bell the only audience, no sold
out arena, this one night only
extravaganza
extravaganza
extravaganza
In a blitzkrieg emporium, 72 Winston Churchills
attempt to divine the secret for peace from
the intestines of dead Hitler clones while each
brushes and shampoos while inventing new suspensions
to resolve all the tyranny in the moustache of Stalin.
In a blitzkrieg emporium, 1000 Winston Churchills
catalogue each working part of every possible illusion
the media creates within square transmissions
while performing autopsies on cameras to assess
exactly how much of a ghost each flash collects.
In a blitzkrieg emporium, 1,000,000 Winston Churchills
tinker to see if they can violate Moore’s law, design the first
transcendent AI that identifies both as man and machine,
while they continue to search for lost equations
and theses hidden in prayer book palimpsests.
In a blitzkrieg emporium, 1,000,000,000,000 Winston Churchills
disassemble a nuclear warhead, knoll its guts seek, for the core,
see if it can understand regret, believe in ghosts,
or reach for forgiveness as they re-engineer
the Resurrection of Christ without creating zombies.
In a blitzkrieg emporium, the set of all Winston Churchill sets
containing all possible Winstons across all dimensions including:
women, headlines, animals, dictators, failures, photographs, newsreels, portraits, fractals, and itself that poke and prod trying to find a place to drill
so they can squeeze the last metamorphosis out from the Lorentz transformation.
Finally, in the garden outside the infinite blitzkrieg emplorium,
Winston plants a bristlecone pine, and ponders its growth for 10,000 years.
