ELSEWISE
Edelweiss, and now this.
Small men, hunters with
outsize carbines shooting at
rocks and declensions, or
reading Rimbaud at the edge
of the water. Drunken Boats,
indeed. Crocodiles will stop
at nothing to do honor to the
breed. Am I dreaming, or can
any of this be for real?
-
Maybe I should take a hammer
to the Ferris Wheel? Maybe we
together should better down the
walls. Between this aching and
this waking : matter holds such
small adhesion to this world.
-
We can watch the President,
together, as he garbles his words
and utters snipe-talk for the now
ever-present camera-eye. How
does it go, now that every day
seems like Sunday to me?
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