Saturday, July 17, 2004

spurious piece 

an afterlife fill of meaning, scripted aliens, tried and true polemical flags, the trust of running into John Kerry at a surly bar where he bears witness to a day in the past, which ran from Concord thru Lexington into Boston, film at 11, collecting colours of disgruntled vets, real folks not like 'me', more than 30 years agone, registered as a talent for leadership or moral qualm turned into a factory, meanwhile George W Bush freaks as a son of a presidential moment, imbibing clocks on mountains and screw of oil in a dazzle with baseball's probable elite, trips into our vision of neurosurgery and haggling, trickle down theory in death, spots on beauty on old raiment, churned in a rosy way, feel night coming, repeated infractions of Bruce Springsteen songs, fortified throng, waiting, after more waiting, waiting...

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