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?
The lunatic, the lover, and the poet,
Are of imagination all compact...
-- Wm. Shakespeare, "A Midsummer Night's Dream"
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