11/22/12

Poetry to me is sanding surfaces to come upon the accidents of mind

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Poetry to me is sanding surfaces
to come upon the accidents of mind
that so surprise the author
that upon the page
they open other eyes
I have in mind a palimpsest
that hunchbacked makes his way
to a donut shop
where windblown wrappers swirl
around his threadbare ankles
and then come to rest
as a distant harmonica
plays Bach and Mozart
badly

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Evil is measured by relative degrees of harm.

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