Tuesday, March 07, 2006



"This from a city of parks and whores?"

Thursdays you'll usually find me at Kavarna.com. By then
the bagels would have mounted up nicely

--- they've got a blind guy who sorts them,
after a fashion,

while listening to talking books; The Bride

Stripped Bare

was on the other day; embarrassing

doesn't begin to describe it
--- anyway, I just have to gesture with my stick

as I come by the counter

and the bagel-de-jour is plopped on the plate for me.
These days, they say, I've got a bit slow, so

if you do want to talk about some of the old stuff,
it's a good idea to send me a postcard first

with a title, maybe a couple of questions, and a

line diagram outline, like that thumb-print on your throat.


Bernard Lane

Comments:
What kind of schmuck writes this kind of thing? My kind of schmuck, it seems. One day, with your mind on something else, you release a child or two into the world. After that, there's no accounting where they'll turn up, drooling and jabbering.
 
Uh, where'd that thumb print come from? I've got a fair idea where the DNA would lead.
 
Not bad.
 
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