1, 000 illuminated eyes
waiting to decide
Buddy Holly brides
endless eyebrows rising
space-pod aliens disguise
urban cowboys overheard
in private conversations
about their ears and eyes
Marianna’s blackened eaux
her mummified noises
heard inside cardboard boxes
where eyes stand on stalks
that only the poor people
think still are sexy
denied their laser surgery
they stand in queues
limited views, feline
pointy, pointy Siamese
elegante, palomino, suave
they wear tortoiseshell or ebony
black plastic frames
with camera lenses
amplify the senses
I am the cam-er-a
a silent listener to your
every thought on politics
economics, all the genres
considered non-essential
clan or controversial
this mechanical contraption
solid minuscule adaption
what aliens might wear
tune in, drop out, turn on
now that Timothy Leary’s dead
and lies a mouldering
while all his bona fide
fondue disciples
exit the programme
pilgrims halfway down
the open road
beatniks who stepped out
of Kerouac’s contradiction
who found a proper job
a job with payslips, prospects
black-rimmed spectacles
turtle necks and loafers
moustachios and goatees
who listened in on jazz
aficionados of the mellow
interdependence of
Miles, Getz, John Coltrane
counting meteors
and shooting stars
who fell to earth
clusters of the full moon
signatures to the authentic
signalled visitors
to our awesome planet
give me the beat boy
free my soul

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.. ©edenbraytoday07.12.2025