ALMOST LOST IN A
WANDERING CONFLUENCE
If a hat is brave the bowler gets a strike?
No, that's not the logic I seek, though
that's what I get. I'm beginning to
detest this little world - where all
things are one-at-a-time faults; where
images deceive and mark time together;
where young ladies are marksmen and
the men are young ladies. How's all
this go again?
-
What year will they be painting the
parking lot? How many cars can fit on
the edge of a pin? Angels speaking in
tongues? Forty-five Robinson Crusoes
out for a stroll.? I realize only now how
little I know and the lack of any new
resource to learn from.
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