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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. |
