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Thursday, December 2, 2010

La Vida Loca: Con Safos

When I first Arrived in this Poem,
I was just a tiny ant-sized flying
automaton--a sassafraxas sound
upon wings propelled by the buzzbuzzing
sensation of an electrical surge
a flicker in my mind. Emily D.,
I get what you meant succinctly sore soul.
Ay de mi! Mis penas son enormes,
parecen ser telaranas y tendones.
The wolf, a dangerous demon disguised
as an animal as a man whose fury
becomes self-Mad; by Somatic Comas
the Imagination is driven Dry
in the Lauding of a Meopoeia.

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