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final act (Free verse) by <~>

he started, brash, his own criminal stealing self from species publicly-- performance art in the market square-- he slashed himself long and laughed daring us to see crazy man, standing akimbo, red flags fluttering as gasps, gasps, and backing off and eyes seared to the scene he groaned like jazz on an open groove the center of his own circle unrelenting, then suddenly wretched but measured never forgetting his audience he streamed round, screamed white, white eyes realizing round not seeing us circled round his senseless senses leaving the present he swaggered in his pain swathed in agony spun himself with glory, red and wet spun and splattered us who rushed in makeshift bandages dry as he flailed to keep us away until it was too late.

Tintagiles 19-Oct-05/11:16 PM
Ah, ye gods, ye haven't changed. Wonderful.

Where have you been, anyway? Methinks I've rather missed you, Tilde.




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