Thursday, October 10, 2013

4670. GROLIER

GROLIER
I'll mark you down for nothing as much as
your little place, your mind in the weeds of
stackpole and venomland. Nothing really at
all, just made-up places in the mind. Yes, I've
studied hundreds of things : all to no avail.
Those natives on the watery-land, Manhattan's
bad end  -  for trinkets and beads all sold down
the river to some Dutchman's weird accolades.
It's over now, Buddy. Listen up and take note.
-
The carnage is now on land : eighty-story buildings
eating sky for breakfast. Down below, in patterned
waverings, the umbrellas' people swankly stroll.
Movies are made of all this now. How droll.
-
I shot my wad at St. Lucie. I split my hatch at
Ray's Sport Shop. The firing range was open
for years  -  no questions asked. Let me say
this one more time : It's over now, Buddy.
Listen up and take note.

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