9 february 2012
Why?
Unaccountably, while I was making a liverwurst sandwich
(with mustard and cornichons on rye)
the poem took a dive
off the countertop, I don't know why,
onto the floor and burst into words
which can be blunt or sharp, God knows,
There was nothing to do
but sweep it up
eat the sandwich and, and, and,
put on shoes.
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0011.
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0010.