
Depth of Field
Out among the disappeared
Light seems illegal and deviant
Eerie and mysteriously still
—
The flat-line of desires,
The ghost of former existence
Blurred away in heat-seeking focus
—
Smoked away the napalm sky
Crashing to the grey raving tides
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Lenses zoom and point of view
Vacuums up the foreign dust
From rubbles of deaths in New Delhi
—
Are there enough pixels to adhere?
To white balance the sun’s
Avant-garde dissonance, the focal noise
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Wind chill day of justice swayed
By the vertical jitter of cinema-verité
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Light intensely accelerates into the night;
Lumbering like the golem towards his romance
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In the damp gauze of moonlight
In terminal equinox, in a feverish sweat, loves satinesque
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Streaming midnight movie scenes the dark room glows
Dichroic rolls as scrolls, the grassy knoll
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Childhood’s unreal world; the overexposed:
The spinning, leering lovers now picturesque
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The crazed mixture of drugs and money in spindles,
The molting waxen squares of plastique
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The terrorists smile in pomp, our luminescence
They ask in ruse, “What is the caption?”
Is it in color, is it black and white?
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Napalm sky, smoke black, fire bright
Rushes of deadline blood lost in backlight
—
How damaging is art to the unfocused eye…?