with recourse to rhetorical contortions

With Recourse to Rhetorical Contortions

For the moment, let us go to welcome one of those who are

the slapping of steelpan and the clanging of cowbells

as though somewhere a little boat was going out on a lake

and forces them deep into dark refuges where the dream

went back in to wait for the bass player to start up again

and run a ring around me, or make me think that first minute I

had two long horns with sharp points. 'Oh how dreadful,'

they whisper in my ear at a restaurant where I am by

my old gun and we done used up every bit of ammunition

when the world finds out. And when the world knows,

it is a thing to encircle a pain. A thing that is a gate to

call a one of them, man or dog, to his senses. There was

nothing ontological about segregation. Enough of this

waiting for someone to burn something down again,

thrown up by the mill and left in the pit to dry

this absurd drama that others have staged.