29 June 1999
Ben Blanchard

Hear Ben and Anne read it at Studio 109!

BLINKIE POIM

(this poem must be viewed using Netscape Navigator)

    ucation has been blindEd
Flabby mismanagement, polite tics.
                                       Conversations about
the issue could Not be stopped
          As up-to-the minute reports
Formed a body of text detailing hostilities for manufacture and distribution.
Populations from somewhere barged across an unctuous ocean. The
Displaced, overcoming influences into routines and habits, gave the
Measure it's due consideration in the cool of the evening following
The exersizes. Finally, when the topic had been exhausted and
Every limitation pushed onto a list, all hands safely
                  Returned to mouth.
 Needles to say and words wash up on all urban beaches, the in and out
Of Washington power struggles fuel-inject ambition, carburate creativity.
The machine of my machine is my friend.
                        bloodless rational instruments can kill someone.
                                             I was one of the things that
      They take away so that giving back is now a dream come true. The
      People that amused us with a refusal to be normal against the odds
      Are back, with that zany and attractive worker of modern miracles,
      Subverter of the Institutionalism that's undergoing such an exciting overhaul:
      Fred Flannel!, a failed quality manager in the prestigious firm denial. No drop
      In the bucket, the exposure alone required the heads and shoulders of
      Just about everyone.
                                             Any examination will prove satisfactory.