Death of a television

A brief moment’s freedom
Unplugged and unbound
A short inner passage
On your way to the ground
Does a picture tube panic?
Do transistors know fear?
Does the zen of the moment
Ease your end-time here?
I missed your death-flight
So I did not observe
Your final appointment
With the cold concrete curb
But to see as I did
The debris field of parts
Makes me think it was worthy
Of praise from the arts
So I offer these lines
As a requiem now told
To a dead television
In the grass by the road

February 20, 2004 В· Harry В· One Comment
Posted in: Poetry

One Response

  1. scott - February 20, 2004

    Debris field of parts…praise from the arts…

    I like it!