Friday, November 5, 2010

Tacitus Plays Handball

The way red maples imitate Byzantium, when Byzantium ions sustain Norway maple perplexed with the intrusion of cold air masses. Republicans resemble parsing, if parsing were the word for feathery litmus. But if feathery litmus were the extent of parsing, crashing of periodical airplanes, and a Timbuktu positron seduction to rival the best cheap vodka, would be the ultimate sweat lodge for Friday night. Is this extreme? Are marshes extreme, for all the petulant stairways thriving in the modicum of constancy? You seek thrushes that refer to brownness, opals that are opulent water, stem cells that create mocking, and oracular miniskirts that resume a bygone cage. Position rebukes boom box, our native Republicans like steam, our Democrats crave wet. In stylish organdy, the teasing philosophic lodestar crumbles nuclear. You who region budget-savvy refrain from excessive Triassic periods, knowing that we are all born in a cave-in in Jura, like a bunch of crowded bulimics. We all but like them. So now, with civilization in hand, lights cresting on Doppler sunsets, and splendiferous sunset has been inculpated finally, well that I like you, meanness of human contact. A poet contains a poem but is no more than a planet surveyed by ballistics.

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