in a room with chandelier, waltzes
over loose tiles, captures
the absurdity of human movement,
the trickery of portrayal, the subjective
eye and the horse, spread,
about to be jabbed in the heart
by spear of nowhere, on a velvet
bench, surrounded by red jacketed
security, fixed to the walls, framed
and innocently hung, too old for change
and too young to take the streets
with chagrin, a kissing couple
with one face, with two eyes, with one mouth,
devoid of linear thought, surmised
by the devil bull of Barcelona, traipsing
the ports on Spanish night of old 2010.
Jan 9, 2011
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Mad Moon Over Mehringdamm
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