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/  L o u i s   P i r r o
                 
                                          
                                                                                                         
B A C K
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N E X T
A  DAY  WITH  A  JET

Large airliners pass so close to me
Like scarred whales pressed to aquarium glass.

Raked wings are oranged by the setting sun
Then slice into the landscape below.

Trees cluster now in bare-branched violet groupings
While the snow on the lawns is split like an eggshell.

Later we meet face to face on the ground
There is nothing between us.

And I remember also the aroma of peanuts
On almost every breath.

CLEAN  SLATES

A Tower of Babel-
my heart stands before it.
The empty desert-
an illusion of stability
when all is in flux.
It's simplicity
and poverty-
a mirage
to get lost in.
It's cleansing-
a rumor...
as trash
litters the ground-
recently parachuted
to fully realize
its own alienation-
then tear itself down.
THE  LONG  CHILDHOOD

My zygote expands
like an exploding star-
an infinity is born
and I was a trapezoid.
Born with the dead
eccentric and fabled
an angel-
easily faulted
not knowing of
the twisting globe beneath
but nearer the moon than me-
Then light & knowledge
And all is lost again-
but "Thou Shalt Not Question!"
BREAKDOWN

during my breakdown
on the floor
between
a bed and a desk
I broke into laughter
at my sobbing sounds-
like a chimpanzee's

It was so beautiful-
and as pointless
and brief
as a snail's
sizzeling Explosion
on a Hot
barbeque grill
SCENARIO

In the bright squalor
of the American dream
colorless souls expectorate
and belch out
panasonic zeitgeists
virtually professed as art-
captivating blind masses
and anemone
computer troubadours embrace
moral silence- but feeling,
feeling always...
then without sensation
production ceased.
MY  BACCHAE

Mashed like Pentheus
but by an elevator
he challenged the dark.
And there will always be something funny
about a man under an elevator
even when he is your best friend.
ILLUSIONS

I've built my kingdom of heaven-
on the Web
spread out before us
in cyber-space-
the best part of myself
safe as can be.
Now I can hit the streets
& party...
while throwing my body away.

(c) copyright Louis Pirro 1997-2001