POEM

A baroque trapazoidal marble flicked

onto Flatland splats

Janus-style

a Mulligan Stew

of wet spots

and rear-guard orisions

the room hums

back at my head

my eyes find their own

way thru a wait-

a-minute minute

when the four-squares

tremble with dusted sunlight

& angels blow their horns

and on the inside

of my eyelids begins

the latest chapter of

Zombie Super Models

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