the universe filtered
through the kaleidoscopic eyes of flies
a theoretical hog-calling contest
no one believing in hogs any more
this poetry could not be described as cozy
nothing adheres to these bones
they had warned me
poetry is not for everyone
I found myself hurrying, as past a graffitied wall
ah, poets, how can you write such things?
don't you fly at night in your dreams?
invective out of the way,
now let's reread and enjoy
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