Anything in Opera

By | 1 April 2016

“ … everyone now living is experimenting
like the beautiful River Volga
writing herself in lazy meander
fingerlets inactive
in the hay between tractors.
Then what am I by comparison
—Augean?
Where the ombuds meets the diligence
with odic effervescence
anything in opera plotwise
renders one’s own account small
one’s way
paper thin.
Nevertheless we begin.
The exact words were overturned prophylaxis
scratched onto the stable floor
by the helpless ass and his sister
whose candid retort rhymes proxy
precisely with precosity
and something ending in ‘head.’ Then
will our wooden limbs fly
with a giddy-up
from here to the last eucalyptus nut
where otherwise fog might find itself dreadful
and hanging.”

From that point on the hike was silent.

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