Abstract Fatigue

Then there was an interlude

in which the brawl before our

indented eyes went on.

Auto-destruction he breathed

and I in that time was

suspended

 

Edward Dorn, poet, from Gunslinger , 1968

. . .you musn’t slap my

Gunslinger on the back

in such an off hand manner

I think the sun, the moon

and some of the stars are

kept in their tracks

by this Person’s equilibrium

or at least I sense some effect

on the perigee and appogee of all

our movements in this, I can’t quite say,

man’s presence, the setting sun’s

attention I would allude to

and the very appearance

of his neurasthenic mare

 

lathered, as you can see, with abstract fatigue–

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