[net.poems] tiny e. p. m.

bigger (12/17/82)

Headset: an ode to the personal portable








tiny eared plastic man, wired up for sound,
listening, only listening,
    where do you put your eyes?


with your cassette minded rewind,
synthisizer frame,
    you stroll through 
    this world, this music store,
like Morrison reborn. ("honest to God, it's him")


flag a rift for a sidestep,
flip a beat this way,
close it in from bothsides 
in your reproductive style.
    No, I can't hear the red rhythms
    you keep pulling from your hair,
    you keep shaking out of smiles.