i pond skate over
those clever depths
that scare me rigid
from
the
bolo loaded bookshelves
their ferret rounds
ready
in paperback disguise
~
the prose like glass
the full metal jackets
&
the cut of
a
between-the-wars
wilkinson sword
vonnegut
at least
gives me a shoulder
before
the
bayonets
at
dawn
~
theres no comparison there
theres no inspiration there
that
wont
make
me
bleed
struggle pup tears
& hemingway
he stole my tb handkerchief
~
tears-
their own catalyst
ferment
in the ennui petri dish
of
the
uks
daily no way
from amazon.com
