until her smiles
were only kept teeth
with a pain for believing,
he was acquired
by riverlike eyes, deserted
at each watched horizon,
fed practically on the grave
of her syndrome,
intent on being
a system of trusted prescriptions.
a comforted sleep rages against intimacy
factual faded skeletal aesthesia
persisted in her overdose and being in back of it
his screaming of her needs could garner some repreive
if the construct and method confuse
to tuck his will in her wedge.
if the movement of her suicides could be believed,
sulking in a symphony of dictated maladies
if the savior and a forgery comsume her dreams
some of the longings of the impaler might be subjected
soaked in her gutter
touched in by island tides
escaped angels of her prohibition
twisted warmly in the fled displeasures of her persona
he said that the urination of her brains could be cleansing
though some of the crumbles of her despair might be doubled,
and preached with drugs in hand to this end.
Computer poetry is warfare carried out by other means, a warfare against conventionality and language that has become automatized. Strange as it seems, our finite state automata have become the poet’s allies in this struggle, the long historical battle by which mankind pries into the surface of language to reveal its latent mysteries… R.W. Bailey, Computer Poems (1973)
Tuesday, February 15, 2011
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