02-03?

So Ted Serios peered into a camera,
some said) dropping images within.
A cathedral glanced in childhood,
A spacecraft—from memory alone.

His gizmo, so-called, burned them
Into polarized film. His eye-beams
(they claimed) pierced the aperture.
And then when he squeezed that eye

Like Popeye before Brutus,
Boom! Another Polaroid,
Blurry, like from a baby’s eye,
Some bell-hop's art brut.

Embers, phantasmal facades,
Bits of news he channeled
Into blurred shapes kindling film:
tenement or charity hospital,

Though it all turned out untrue.
He was exposed, a charlatan.
So much for his impressions
on a twisted plane, his pop-art.

Where did his phony pictures go,
What basement? Who hears
About these actors past their exits?
Speak what he really saw.