Scott Doyle

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Machineries of marketing strain,

clutter the waiting white of any blank space.

Billboard, bumper-sticker, byte:

building blocks of a brave new dialect.

 

But creation demands an open canvas,

this poem a fresh page.

Every blank space also a resting place,

room to halt, stretch, breathe.

 

There are mysterious lands in the

brain that resist markets and maps.

In sleep we step lightly there,

knowing how full empty can be.

 

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Scott Doyle writes in a mountain cabin just outside of Los Angeles. In a past life he helped run an independent bookstore in Boston. He has a new story, "Clapping Girl," at Night Train, NightTrainMagazine.com. Starting in June, check out his blog at LitScribbler.Wordpress.com. This is his first published poem.