Fall 2010


The Super Scene Mop Up

from “Feel Your Media — Bitch
 
 
“There’s strands, you know, strands, strands, but even strands—”

“Well, let’s see … we’ve got Melbourne, Montevideo, Mumbai, Toronto, Tijuana, Tehran—”

(( Fuck, Johnny ))

“Metro—tribal—avant—trash—shoot—please—”

{as Super Value pair exits, “motivated” poet takes out magic wand and points it the perimeter of the local (national) scene; at that point, poet would open mouth as wide as possible, poet would stretch out tongue as far out as possible” but }

* * *

{Poet was sitting in chair facing spectators clutching stomach, head down, for 3 minutes}

{Poet then suddenly stood up, left the scene, and returned with a mop; poet began mopping up the ground of activity with complete concentration for about—what? about 20 seconds}

{Poet now being outside of the spectators’ sights carefully/artfully inspects the mopping results—for exactly an hour}

* * *

{After the hour passes, famine enters, labor strife enters, drastic climactic changes enter, as yet ungraspable cultural climate shifts rush in; as spectators exit, poet trails after spectators—in hunt-like fashion; somebody collects the media (text, sound, image} and aerates it, with trepidation}

RODRIGO TOSCANO

 

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