Saturday, December 31, 2016

12/31/16 Valentine

I can see the nasty from here
The hateful doubtful fearful nasty
From the high cliff of the year
From which one either leaps
Or is lifted off by death’s
Delicate snatchings
Like chocolates from a box
In seasonal wrappings
To plunge into downwardness
And darkness the double’s
Fine tailoring of truth
To take the feathers for the goose
To place a crown on the uncouth
And on one’s neck a noose

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