Donald Davidson
on the defense of tradition
I turned my head
away from Her so I could listen
something rings true
but fails at the feet of Grace
absolute in its power
absolut Face
about face
timeless walkability
choice cut, dry heave
abandoned supermarket sleeves
chinstrap beard mentality
casual friday every day
hippies done won
but I'll be damned if the Dark One's
gone
supplanting Poem for
homoeros
Bucks Unlimited
tattoos of sparrows
ripped from the earth
and dipped in fondue
forever
Xtreme Dante
undashing, clever
the robot lawnmower
spake to the robot
harvester:
at least there's no more
yip yap a botherin' Her
instead the cold cleaves
to discs, and dusks empty
of men, REAL MEN
and farmers' daughters aplenty
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