Mayakovsky’s Eye

Today, I, splintered flute, refuse to entertain you.

I prefer the sky drained,

electric bulbs to cry

on the landscape.

Carrying midday,

I am the dauntless Lord of a tray of aspic.

I shall burn my disgrace with madness.

I who poked my own name

am a finger at your last judgment.

Those with sunken noses know

I fear you no more than a throng.

I contemplate so often ending

your coarse vandal days.

A farewell concert with the bullet.

Full-stop.

***

Mayakovsky’s Eye is a Collage poem composed by Dave Lordan out of sentences culled from:

listen maykovsky

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