p
o
e
m
s

Zane slaves over a rock ballad,

tears on cheek,

flared mauve chaps,

bullion lips.

 

two takes,

has cigar,

calls it a Mayflower nickel,

wages, an emotional pilgrimage.

 

not enough,

take ten.

 

pauses for recall,

popular remainders and pulse,

a twinkie that belts out words,

a token underground commute.

 

still indy,

groomed on grunge, gap,

back issues of spin.

weened on theft and quick oats.

 

shows arrive late,

bail for bankrupt minors,

song sinks in scale,

rises, fills fans and dies.

 

we give quarter, its claim,

provide comfort, crowd and cane.

thanks, no, recites Zane,

i’m spent, social and sane.

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Eliot Weinberger

Belgium, 13th century I saw a queen, wearing a gold dress, and her dress was full of eyes, and all the eyes were transparent,. . .

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