M E T R O P O E S I S

(the  2.0.2.1  re-mix)

PHOTOGRAPHY | CREATIVE CONCEPT | PROJECT

Blink!

Blink now!

Blink, my cities, my oh

My cheerful cradles of crescendo cannibalism

(I was as puzzled as you are right now, but, supposedly, “it’s the economy, stupid!”)

My antebellum ant farms,

(for my money, it’s still the Malthusian economy, stupid!)

My foraminous farms of faux-photons and feisty pheromones

(so… it could be a case of stagflation, stupid!)

My piccadill-pronged pig farms

My oh

My sties

My sibylline sties

(featuring E to the M (?!) to the C-I-O-R-A-N, “La Chute dans le temps”, Ch. 3, for skeptics are the oracles of the sties that barbarians call farms)

My eye-stabbing sties suppurating that syndicated

I n v i s i b l e into irked interim incandescence

For all the beguiled and the beggars and the brigands of blindness to be blissfully blinded by I t s benevolence

And so to blink all and blink all the time in metropolitan synchronicity

(mad props! doing the dyad: it’s Italo Calvino’s “Polo…” to my “Marco?”)

In putative parametric synchronicity

In piccadill-pronged synchronicity

And so to blink all and blink all the time in fits of hysterical blindness

(scatting & sampling Giles Deleuze: reperence and diffetition – sic(k)!)

In fits of hysterical computations

In fits of hysterical permutations

And to blink all and blink all the time in permuted lockstep

In permuted canons

In muted double canons – those

Predating that pernicious pestilence of those peppered parchments that pave your predacious yet pedestrian peripheries

So blink now or forever hold your peace

But hold your own against those triangulated light beams that cauliflower your rooftops

Your own against those triangulated shutter clicks of architects who prune your rafters

(for, forget not, photography, painting and poetry are polyamorous paramours of our percolated pride…)

Against those triangulated soul traps that seed soul traps on your ridges

Roar, my

Oh my soul-split-open-cities!

Roar already!

Visuals: Alexandru Crisan, Writings: C.StDinulescu.

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