GIMCRACKERY
Fizzle. Swazzle.
Lend a hand. The
fat black fellow in
his gabardine, looks
like nothing but
down and mean.
The old landscape
passes; dirty birds, its
oily waters and marsh
grass bending to filth.
They build to the edge,
then they charge for the
ledge, and let you look
out on their nothing.
-
Fizzle. Swazzle. Lend
a hand. They come by
the hundreds to piss
on your land.
Fizzle. Swazzle.
Lend a hand. The
fat black fellow in
his gabardine, looks
like nothing but
down and mean.
The old landscape
passes; dirty birds, its
oily waters and marsh
grass bending to filth.
They build to the edge,
then they charge for the
ledge, and let you look
out on their nothing.
-
Fizzle. Swazzle. Lend
a hand. They come by
the hundreds to piss
on your land.
2 comments:
I got a clear mental picture with this one, the man became oily after I read about the oily birds, and I could picture land being torn apart and built up ad infinitum, and the exorbitant rents being charged to be in those buildings...and the alliteration was stimulating as well, after the second reading.
You put forth a good rendition of where 'Gimcrackery' was trying to head, and I appreciate your note of the alliterations and format. The actual genesis of whatever came out in that piece had to do with the miserable remnants of the now overly-developed NJMeadowlands. All those sad, sallow wet heaps of nothing now beset by new condos, rail stations, and - egads! - even a supposed '"Nature Center' by sicko environmentalists willing to tell you all about that which has been lost.
Regards, Gary
Post a Comment