turntable.2.

hey, that was fun, remixing. sure, the poems come out a tad bit forced, but wtf, i liked the exercise. i hope the dude dun mind... or sue, for that matter... muhahaha..

****

husbandless.remix.

So
he is dead.
Finally he is only
a newspaper clipping
that would yellow
and settle
like dust into her routine.
At least now
over the next few years
she could rewrite him
entirely into myth
where she could be his only
heroine, chief priestess
of his worship,
loyally
tending to his altar,
his 15 centimetres of
dead space, and totally
insensitive
to everything
she once
believed of him.

****
listeningto: bic runga's beautiful collision - aaaah, i always liked a small chick....