Say a Prayer for Cactus Chef
We’ll get by, I suppose. Miracle: shit
eating duck. Pretending to be random
saves us from a perpetual edge. Hath
time, wallet at its back, wherein he puts
alms for oblivion—great-sized monster
(ravenous) of ingratitudes. A pit
to send Omarosa therein. She soots
everyone between the eyebrows. Tandem
do the bearded march. Make a path (a path!)
Froid est mon cœur ce mois. Un hiver dans
infer. For writing, true, does solely stir
retroactively, wears with delight on
each mind. Mister O’Brien, a brighter
sunshine of your love: you need no writer.
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