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Streetlamp Saw Me Walking

by Blaine Lindsey about a year ago in surreal poetry
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the night moves on its own and I feel...

Streetlamps saw me walking...

The night moves on its own and I

feel really alive but totally shocked

that I'm even in a body

and that the sidewalks not popping

when I jump up and down

in this literal, visceral, critical moment

seen on 3D HD under the streetlights.

No explanations or field-guides.

Treebranch heard me talking...

Orange glow on the green grass and I

am hit with Deja Vu's nameless younger cousin.

Had to say hello.

It felt far away from home or

like waking up somewhere you didn't fall asleep at,

or like wearing VR goggles but not fully believing,

not quite forgetting

the real world,

or is it?

Whats the reason of this visit?

The use?

Feeling acute and obtuse

all at once.

Captured and framed in photobooths.

Maybe the unseen truths

are wafting in my direction,

gracing the back of my neck.

For a moment my dials get turned-

the volume, the contrast, saturation, brightness.

In whose likeness is this all made?

The first or last?

The macro or micro?

1 or the 0?

Streetlamp or tree branch?

Or is this all a random serenade;

composed by the elements,

imposed on the sentients,

exposed as irrelevance

reveling in experience.

surreal poetry

About the author

Blaine Lindsey

Blaine Lindsey is a living love poem. Born in Vallejo, California. Queer spoken word poet with a stutter. Blaine's work speaks from the soul with compelling metaphors, emotional connections, societal observations and spiritual underlines.

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