Neon earth giving birth 
to neon-plastic 
ema-nat-ing e-lim-i-nat-ing
suction-feeding MEDIA.  
Me-di-a...yes I'll take this
magazine to dinner, I'll
read to my children 
blah-tainment weekly,
I'll cuddle next to a 
warm-sweet issue of 
playboy, kissing 
glossy pulp and 

SMASH

I want a DVD player in 
my grave and surround-sound in 
my coma, ipod in the brain,
neon-blinking headstone--
no room for grief, just
flashing flashing flashing

SMASH

The casino-concrete-blustering
GLARE, 
the night-streak-streaming-beaming
FRENZY,
the choreographed and singing Broadway
HAMMER.

Life at the end of an 
unending slam of ads and 
dollar-ninety-nines and 
coupons coupons coupons and
gimme-gimme gimmicks.

Free THIS,
suck-your-brain-dry THAT,
this MEDIA is a salted field
where nothing, nothing, NOTHING
grows.  Fluorescence is
destroying us, neon is sucking
away our stars, 
glitter is feasting
away at our brains,
our streets, our gutter hearts
our landfill-miasma culture of 
girth and grease and lego-mickey-
muckety-muck noisy-freeway roar 
times ten and

SMASH

SMASH

kneeling,
cold-dark-beating earth, 
silence-pulse and
air-breathing trees.
There's a stark-grey wind in
this early March.  I'm 
kneeling over your 
snow-encrusted grave,
feeling again,
again, 
again 
...so lost up here