DECIMATION
(my father said 'keep your
head up when you write')
This being the smartest fire ever, I am
slaughtered by a million cuts. I am burned.
The swivel chair has hit my head. That
toilsome burro yet chases my figure, and
I have nowhere left to turn; beset by
rumors of high tide and low rent.
I listen to the rumble-roar beneath
the ground and realize - only too
late and with sorrow - that I was
destined for other things of no
import. The blind boy in the
leaking bubble : perhaps,
yes, maybe, that was
always me.
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