Wednesday, January 26, 2011


I'm not sure what's
meant by an old man
skipping along a roadbed.
But I have some

clever ideas about death
I'd be willing to share with
you after they finish
drilling for oil in

my brain. A bug
still delivers the elixir,
of course, and disillusioned
men still drill themselves

into the ground day
by dreary day.

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