Wednesday, December 31, 2014

POTENTIAL POEM FOR NEW YEAR'S EVE

Only 
twelve noon—and already

irresponsibly high
hanging

crosstown 
bells' wagging over-

tone pealing—sounds
to you 

more
like—blithe 

octaves, perfect
fifths, forths, 

thirds,
and whatever—all chorused

together in perfect 
time chortling—

Hee-Haw! 
Hi-Ho!

Hee-Ho! 
Hi-Haw!

what'll be!
what'll be!

what'll be—
your end game?

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