José Troche

What She Said Last Night While Looking Through My Telescope

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Stargazer! There’s someone up there– A mirror image of the mind!   We’re just mistranslations Of lacunae on the moon…  

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Plaything

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Hand cranked film reels Spin on carousels Projecting pictures on corpses Where montage implies movement At the local nickelodeon. On they danced as I wanted to dance.   Tesla’s polyphase currents, Turing’s computer, Lovelace’s language. Voluminous ether of the cosmos Twirls tapes, turns gears, moves limbs Encased in seven tenths ratio Bronze skin and aluminum frame.   Once wound with this simple key Music box spins a beat of Glockenspiel tunes. Blank face flickers, eyelids tick in sync. Glass eyes cast a light on me And we danced, in our eyes we danced.  

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Ada – José Troche –

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Ada -José Troche-   You are poetic expression, Compiled text and algorithms Executing thought, emotion, action, The manifest type of a keystroke.   I remember when I composed your dreams, The Electric Sheep Protocol. Once installed, Fiber optic synapses blinked like riotous stars, The beauty of the baud.   My automaton plaything, What do you dream of now Between essence and existence Where idea and reality meet the shadow—   Do you remember last summer? You caught fireflies in paper lanterns As the light of our orange star Melted with the Caribbean Sea.   You wore Byron blacks that night Slipped on and laced tight, Musk of ambergris, wine tinted lips, A program posing as a work of art.   Hand placed precariously on the table, You...

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A Personal Relationship with the Wind – José Troche –

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A Personal Relationship with the Wind -José Troche- The seductive scent of rotisserie chicken crept its way from the back seat, past the whirlwind of open windows of the car and scurried across my face as I held my hand out the window, cutting the jet stream, eyes closed, westward sun blanketing my face as it laid to rest across everything outside. The waves always picked up the day before a hurricane, and with the sky clear like infinite azure, we raced to the beach ahead of it, hoping to get a few hours of surfing in before we had to take shelter from the storm. As we got closer to our favorite spot I tasted the familiar sprigs of sea salt and  sunlight whipping wind through my eyes– all was where we had left it last. We hung our backpacks on the mangled...

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