Fall 2023

Vecino Movie House, 1973

By Byron Fountain

Art house theater, paint store, since burned
  Down asking myself when do the atoms
Stop storming, life left silenced on its axis
(Only some nervous flickering) to create
  Illusions of a life, this artificial darkness please stay
An actual world giving up your ghost at last.
The few traces of heat radiated, returning.
  The collapsed sine & wave generated
In bold passions even then far and away
With speakers falling short of illusion’s sinkhole
   white light & holes on a screen
This distracted passenger jet where we sit, staring
  Slightly upward at some turbulence of shadows
   that might still save us
From expansion of pressurized space
  Through a pinhole with
Only fragments now beyond a time I once thought existed
  My whole universe a projection between reels
   A chain of Occam’s razors (it was) all about me with a you
To only my way of thinking, when I failed
  to will this future forward
   my remains forever falling just short of nowhere in
    time -lapse shadows from irrational numbers
Here for an infinite double feature with the lights never brought up
  And these forcefields I suppose within me only, unforgettable
     –this shoulder barely touching yours.


Fall 2023