Kevin Larimer

Prosthetic Realism

Among the amplified
the multiplied the
altered and abandoned we are
immediately unimpressed.

yawn    promises another    yawn

The telephone has a tone
I will call     frightening.

People are real and people
know I know

that I do not do not do
without you.

Sincere the postmaster general.

There stopped flat still once
a single spoken-then orphaned
Speck of brilliance bending
song-beautiful and mute

like a little yellow feather
inside the impossible flew and

fell through the crowded lonely
perhaps of Pennsylvania Station.

20,000 leagues under memory
the reverie of an ordinary

I will drink a glass of water.


© 2003 Electronic Poetry Review