rewriting landscape.


Warren Lloyd

Lunching on the Green


It’s 2:00pm or 11:00am
or lunch. Certain never blinks never alone
in terry cloth cloaks jousting with pickets
over the bowling green.

Insignias initials monographs
monographs initials insignias
syncopate in coming undone
like splaying fluorescent
issued fatigue and disinterested
The fury for fraying camouflage

stills cacophonies in tower basements

like Middle-Eastern air-conditioning
wicking slipped moisture up muslin cloth
aching and iced cools the vision.

Pirouetting silhouettes pixelate
between soft packets of carbon and air
singing timorous others over sing
the coordinates.
Coordinate where triad resides
you know, up under the wide spread legs of tripod
through the myopic eye of Cyclops
depending on funds or couch or camera.

original images plumbed with numbness

locate the grid rust on the
riveted leather in lemon yellow mansions
competing closed circuited
high cheek boned passion.
Muscular docu-drama’d
romance novels
on the wicker Pier One
bedside tables
where a funky couple's
plans play forth
as if checkers could king

It’s 2:00pm or 11:00am or lunch.


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there 2006, 2007