a black river beyond the last houses runs through its concrete bed
without a purpose. i hate this river...this place is just a copy of
the once open stream cleaning the rest of a mistake.
i consume and adjust huge lists, because it's a moral high
which lasts a few months and outside the night spreads the graphic means
of the city, inscriptions on doors and displays and signs and warnings
and flashlights and colourful windows stained with an electric flicker
from channel13. i'm at the center of it, right in between the viewer's
eyes on a more elaborate display, new clusters of images, words, frames,
and figures.
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