Concerto for blunt instrument

An irregular heartbeat from d.o. to you. Not like a daily kos, more like a sometime sloth. Fast relief from the symptoms of blogarrhea and predicated on the understanding that the world is not a stage for our actions, rather it is a living organism upon which we depend for our existence.

Friday, April 17, 2009


the wheel in your hand
across this fertile land
so many songs you've sung
so many hours ground down
lenses scoping out the action
the reactions, surprised
parties averted gazes and
the twelve steps to nowhere.
vice grip pliers held that
wheel in place, a two-tone
bus with us half grown
steering our way, off to
the highway, the long, long
winding road home, the stolen flag
a bartender's gift, like a
splash in the plaza fountain
without all that fame to
distract us, to grab the wheel
coming loose in our hands.


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