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B A C K
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(c) copyright Louis Pirro 1997-2001
          BORN  TO  SLEEP...

All I'm seeing are ghosts
Ever-changing men marching to their deaths
We are too numb to panic
People and ideas are born every day
Our computers are more human than we
I can no longer trust even my instincts
And it's so easy to let go of it all
Like waking from a dream.

LIKE  THE  MEEK

The Age of Art has drawn to a close
& the Giants of Painting are dead.
But I have survived...
In secret, In Idaho-
the last place anyone would look.
Like a mouse, or a cockroach,
I live on the edge of your world-
leaving a trace of myself
where you dare not look.

BRUNEAU  CAIRNS 

though the clouds
are stacked like cairns
over Bruneau Dunes...
Have we lost our way ?
( haiku )

Dew of the dead cat
left the ghost of his body
behind on the road.
ENABLER

I could consider my words
as carefully as a politician
allowing me to lie to you
while you hear what you want.
NEO-LAMENTATIONS
The trans-
avante garde
advanced on
the position
of a plastic
Rennaisance
had Picasso
been there
his eyes
would have
scattered
even scorpians
left after the
market campaigns
and long years
of image
pollution and
appropriation.
Consumer culture
lead by
promo-pieces
or idolatry
(one can't be sure)
was repulsed with
reverse dialogues
& copy-rights
while Mass Art
merged with
heritage and
rummaged the
repositories of
high culture.

The movement
was routed
by simulacra
in the last years
of the millenia
and now with
paradigm shifted
one just can't
be sure.
THE  HINDENBERG

The Hindenberg
just tethered
to memory
then exploding
in the chaos
of a brain
wired-
but no longer
still grey.
( haiku )

cruxcifiction is
certainly grusome-
though what I hate are the flies...
JAPANESE DEATH POEM

...these flies will know me
more intimately
than any guess could suffice.
( haiku )

Alone at night - Idaho...
Ten minutes of dawn.