1899: It Comes Too Easily

This is normal – here – now –
against veneers – an unkind
grin [a bilious funk of newer
threats] – their hiemal ways
in these days of grabs [& of
grunts] in other beds – they
come as lines yank them off

A first-person singular sigh –
[& a narcissistic poke] tug at
brief love & redacted’s parts
[You’ll be told it wasn’t done
for you] You will be driven to
throwing up/ This normality
in a long week-in-the-life-of

A received letter of delusion
reads as if it was typed blind
by hear-no-evil monkeys – &
sent second class/ Well – is it
no wonder [we suspire] hate
& cannot face our lost past?
Our dissevers will never heal

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