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WHEN THE CROW PIXILATES ON THE IMAGE by Ellen Ritterberg

When the crow pixilates the bricks of the building no longer
look bricks or even brick-like or some approximation thereof
they look like velvet or is it velveteen wish I knew
Wish I could create a word for every word that autocorrects
creates for me opportunity for self-exploration or if not that
then clarification of what I might mean counterintuitive though
it might be autocorrection qua thought howsoever non-original it
may not be
The writing of it, the simultaneity of it, the whole hog full
engagement thereof in the writing that is if you dig if you
follow me that forces me to formulate the meaning of trees not
the oxygenation or other life forms and humans the gaseous cycle
or however that CO2 oxygen exchange tap dance works, the oxygen
just out there for the taking or was or used to be with emphasis
on the past and if not, what function might the term urban
blight serve except to remind we are oxygen deprived clean air
as dodo bird air as unwonted speck in the eye particulate matter
perpetual glacial calving magma stewing. The sky has nary a
cloud except for perhaps the smudge mark on my camera which is
water that never dried, a scar on the image that, or maybe is a
possibility of a poem
Since auto correct sounds like autodidact is that to say we
should create words for the words that are not words just a
thought here just an idea here maybe a meme may be a trend maybe
fame maybe incoherence maybe
If Polly put the kettle on in America then shouldn’t we all be
having coffee we having once been revolutionary a thought here
and here a collective self a nation-state of one or the
multitudes with nursery rhyme as unifying element.Our collective
us with all its attendant fraught hidden meaning I mean or meme.
Or do I ?
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