Tuesday, May 8, 2012

3639. SCHOLARA

SCHOLARA
To somebody just like you I'd be nothing at all :
the unfound oasis in the desert full of plight, the
wounded cry of an antelope with a spike through
its heart. Wild or not, that ends that. Having
never looked up, I can never look down. 
-
The Wizard wears the face of his hawk today:
San Francisco matchbooks on the travel guide
to Mandalay. People sit about, slumped and
glumly staring  -  some vague and third-world
airport of the mind keeps them holding patterns
to the things they won't throw out.
-
Old ideas are the curse of the working class.

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