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to jmac

what happens to a soufflé yelled at?

does it implode unto itself into a singularity, or

does it melt like margarine at the

prospect that any leaf will get the chance to be green and

then red, but no leaf will get the chance to be red and then


tovarisch, i came here at the price of my humanity (a paltry puddle

of mashed dollars with your mug as president).

i am the red alien you saved from planet irth.

i am the beggar dog that drank all the commandments. you the smiling

bible of georgeformaned witches, cheshire-rictused sprites & 5th ave leprechauns.

listen to this sonnet, prietene – it is a handshake that way trivializes


& indeed you need it, you need this brotherly sweat

to be the krazy glue that saddles you on my lucidity. My flimsy

visa to when & where things have potential to

be nice. or ok. ish.

& i beg of you, from whatever is left of me,


to nod your sagacious crown in forgiveness

& do but think thyself as an overly-qualified don quixote single-handling

all the black giants that are me,

& do dance to celebrate your white dwarfism, knowing that this

known world will recognize thee as a

cold stable star, supported by the

exclusion principle repulsion between


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