12.10.2003

Wasted

Imagine what they said
When they found out
About the eclectic heavens
That spasm and bleed
Over ants and flees
And lilliputian organisms
Like a general
With the wool still
Solidly bunched at his shoulders
At the onslaught
Of the year’s icy garter.
Like a wall of hermits
Or the bellow of many hollow dogs,
The dyslexia gods,
Is the uprise of saplings,
Complete with the greenest trunks
To ever cast shadows
Against the moon-scarred night,
That dance, often, in silly hats
That have bells.
Ding, dong, ding, dong,
But which is dead?
Me? You? Silly hats?
The coroner fell asleep
Long ago
And the gravediggers
Have lost their shovels
Looking for the answers
In a bottle of milk.

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