Poem 5 – Street Machine

This is not the normal style of a poem (there are no line breaks and it reads like a paragraph), but I was inspired by Ben Mirov’s machine poems in writing this one. I first wrote a lot of sentences down that came to me from movies I’d seen, books I’d read, paintings I’d seen, or from my dreams, and then arranged them in a somewhat logical order to create this machine poem. Please comment, I would really appreciate the feedback!

It was midnight, and the streets of Paris were still alive with activity. The narrow cobblestone alley with flowers hanging from vines baked in the morning heat. A drain filled with water flowed away. Sunlight slanted through a deserted street, the only attraction a red-and-blue barber’s pole. The movie wasn’t exactly what I had hoped for. Shoes click-clacked on the white marble floor, the slabs of shining marble illuminating their forms. I found the idea of living near a pond for two years enlightening. It was a way to escape from the material comforts of the world. Careening through a tunnel, the bullet train flew straight into a volcano. Its entire memory had been erased.

-writersblock55

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2 thoughts on “Poem 5 – Street Machine

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