When he enters the town – and notices that mcdonalds has burned to the ground he weeps – wouldn’t you? – weeps and hungers he remembers the men standing in a circle of painted cloth now they live in separate little gray boxes “When was the last time you had a happy meal?” When was the last time you were even happy? Inquiring minds want to know when he enters the next town, what chance is there for any meal, let alone ears to hear, minds to mind his mysterious quest for that easy to please, unremarkable self he left behind some time, some town like fallowed fields laid to rest this season done feast beheld wrapped to go again Curtains are drawn, the sound of his roar the only sound in that boxed man’s town a whispered anguished sigh dream broke spare a dime? mourning the golden arches with withdrawing aches and shakes, he rifles the cashier and ditches that family wagon, screaming in the drive-thru But that was yesterday. Now he hears whispers and a full on rumour that in the next town they’re marketing a brand new meal – even happier, even healthier – it’s a fair hike but he staggers on maybe this time the little toy will come with instructions written in Esperanto the market place is silent – its cold square space threatening with the refrigerator on hiatus, he embraces the Esky full of beer and peyote tequila_the trees’ grin stretch the branches to breaking, the red rocks start barking, the thistles into nests of spitting snakes a scene ripe for a Deliverance plot, for location scouts, mouthing blessings to them all the burger king plots his course And realises, with a start, that he has been here before.
31.1: POST-EPIC
Released 1 December 2009 - 1 August 2010Index of Poems
Editor/ Producer: David Prater
Each of the poems in this issue starts with a line from a poem in EPIC. All lines are in fact comments that were added by readers. Scroll down each page to find out who wrote what! Or read the post-epic post-mortem.
and notices that mcdonalds has burned to the ground
he weeps – wouldn't you? – weeps and hungers
he remembers the men standing in a circle of painted cloth
now they live in separate little gray boxes
“When was the last time you had a happy meal?”
When was the last time you were even happy?
Inquiring minds want to know
when he enters the next town, what
chance is there for any meal, let alone
ears to hear, minds to mind his mysterious
quest
for that easy to please, unremarkable self
he left behind some time, some town like
fallowed fields laid to rest
this season done feast beheld
wrapped to go again
Curtains are drawn, the sound of his roar the only sound
in that boxed man's town
a whispered anguished sigh
dream broke spare a dime?
mourning the golden arches with withdrawing aches and shakes, he
rifles the cashier and ditches that family wagon, screaming in the drive-thru
But that was yesterday.
Now he hears whispers and a full on rumour that in the next town they're marketing a brand new meal – even happier, even healthier – it's a fair hike but he staggers on
maybe this time the little toy
will come with instructions written in Esperanto
the market place is silent -
its cold square space threatening
with the refrigerator on hiatus,
he embraces the Esky
full of beer and peyote tequila_the trees' grin stretch the branches to breaking, the red rocks start barking, the thistles into nests of spitting snakes
a scene ripe for a Deliverance plot, for location scouts,
mouthing blessings to them all the burger king plots his course
And realises, with a start, that he has been here before.