I want to write a cracked egg poem with no yolk.
No, I want to write a jumbo egg poem with two yolks.
Toothpaste running down my freshly shaven chin
I divide my life into embryos of employment
and their locations, dozens of eras
dozens of yolks and the result
is financial and white. Divide
and continue, there is always more
to rerun and review. I don't need
to see the end of this show
the part where
like I said
how would you like your eggs?
Politics in a literary work are a pistol-shot in the middle of a
concert, a crude affair though one impossible to ignore. We are about
to speak of very ugly matters.
-- Stendhal, "The Charterhouse of Parma"
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