Before the picture flickers away,
The fun persists, and remains.
3-perf preferable, may settle
for less. Images widen, the mighty
aspect ratios punctuate little and
big minds alike ten fold. Blood pumping
24 frames per second for the patient;
16 frames per second for the struggling
ADD crowd; 64 frames per second for the
baked anonymous.
Voyeurs of the fantasy-self, smiling, shrieks,
a gasp, or 500 for an hour and a half. Flickering
lights, and reels being fed through and through.
Dialogue heeds fair warning; 'All this filming is not
healthy.' Interpretations a-plenty, none are alike.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem