Friday, June 15, 2007

Fame Strikes

I have seen his whiskers against a chalkboard.
The school of pledglings with its missing roof.
Fame eats his host while the host eats toast.
His dentures contain immeasurable sadness.
He drinks milk from a bottomless carton.
There is a locker without a key, there is a shadow.
Principal nothing, I have your report.
Nurse something else, I have innumerable fragments
Atop my head. I’ve given up playing
Long distance Monopoly with anyone who asks.
A jungle vine – let’s swing across the gym
And out the front doors, which are yawning
Just now, as a car’s doors open.

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