Two Poems

of course

plainly the merit if any consists in
the countenance that doesn’t flinch
in the agonies of any thought


let the buyer beware of the window
the empty skies may serve for a looking-glass
and be meadows under the green fields

of turned-up furrows



the pungent rats at our midriffs sniped
it is a grand glorious noise

as the song says
hear ye by all these presents
Santa Claus


the miracle of the bells is booked for the afternoon of the twelfth
and so forth
the cigar box banjos
and fiddle fifers

in any minor key



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