W H O L L Y T E X T S

 

THE MOMENT OF TWELVE

I LASTED FOR AN INSTANT, IN THE JANGLES and BANGLES of the
distantly receding final stand, like an acceptance of the brown
bag's contents, a few grounds here, a few sounds there. Is there
a Sing-Song in that Blue Room? Little dancing midgets, smoking
their brains out...that was the daze. Green tutus. Leaping cliches,
rebounding flicks of violence. Unka-Ja! Check the staples, Ma! They
are diggin' in for alternate final wars! Time is the camel I smoked
last night. And Winnebago lakes, towny broths, encrusted dreams in
vine-pots rose. Phouda-Gaudha! Dear Malok: Be true? Do you doubt
that Malok could actually be Malok? I'll bet!

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