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Thursday, November 11, 2004
USELESS
I
Painting faces: spinning time
over upward; the pond reflects grime
How we change as years unwind; how it never seems
to just kill us out of our mind
"What a work of art is a man"; he does as he can
Until age shoddens, time gives demands
II
Just a reflection, an infection; a flesh fragile,
easily broken; a machine easily stopped; full of
clicking cogs; endless veins; arteries, capillaries,
blood pumping to a narrowed heart; ripped and rent,
torn to pieces, shattered apart:
this is the painting of suffering, brushed to pieces
by a veiny hand in some land
far, far away. . .
some dream dreamt
far, far away. . .
III
GiViNg
one more chance
at this prance
this endless
RoMaNce
the drama
one last glance
to feel
the pants
of tired-eyed
InViTatIon
beckoning its
USELESS
fingers
upon
me
rip, and
TEar
assunder
what's
together. . .
IV
better, better,
and, let her
and, wetter
and better, better
set her
down
and better, better
let her
pet her
and better, better
she is
a child
getting
better, better
let her
pet her
set her
down
send her
off
to the pound
better, better
better she be
locked in cage of steel
better she not know
what to feel
the steel, the feel
better, better
take her
let her
live like an
animal
unknowing
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