Sunday, August 9, 2009

January: Year-day 10

January: Year-day 10 They don't like me out there. I don't know why. Oh, they'll be sure to use me though. They'll make their errors and--tough, if I hit the sky-- I'll just have to somehow fix them, and take it all as I can, though I'd like to cry, like to grab the winds & the clouds/ and quake them, terrorize with my bloody right eye those pasty faces that made my skull ache. Am I America? Certainly. No. A little of this; a little of that: bone of dinosaur, wing feather of crow, corona of daffodil, tooth of rat. If you want me, I'll be raking the leaves: a man with nothing but arms up his/ sleeves. -

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Rhodingeedaddee is my node blog. See my other blogs and recent posts.