dclxi.
Lab rat
sacks frat
brat. Smother

the original,
safe and
sound. Lights!

Camera! Action!
Woke up
midnight, the

incessant flashing
sunlight.

dclx.
Build games in: recourse to rules
& umpires sets you straight (guess
which hand). Not vegan nor a

pumped-up athlete, I would
love to watch my images turn
cartwheels, eat raw meat, & die

an amateur's death. I would. . . .

dclix.
Certainly garnered attention
thrust upon & folded out
(muted by the backwash from

the mainland). I'd pick up the
paycheque (& the pieces), turn
pumpkin come midnight. Ask me

why the photos, c'mon, ask. . . .

dclviii.
'Our way of life.' Is it a
one-way street? Rampaging thru
the run-off, caught without yr

coat. "I pity no-one." Your
over-ample achievement
belittled now, belied: an

'accomplished public servant'. . . .

dclvii
You don't know enough about
where you are. Uplift your eyes
& see. And see the scaffold

shine. The Battle Hymn of the
Republic soars. The artist
of a thousand empty seats

lets you into his secret. . . .