Afflictions of Writers
Attached to both side of the hat
are totally tasteless jokes. You enjoy
the moment with your family, the pleasure
of knocking things down and
destroying them. The writing, its simple
lonely cry, no copyright infringement
intended. Profiles of leading Russian
oligarchs strewn about in your gardens.
That space, that vacuum—impressive
as well—building a hole in my belly.
It was a dream in which I do not appear.
The censorship begins. Small birds
attract lightning to the expanding garden,
which you, of course, are free to use.
Hal
Halvard Johnson
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