at the rover – july 6, 2010

Now he is tearing up books in a wholly blind rage he is tearing out one puppet’s strings.
And now too they are dancing some coy little mamba, she with her torn dress and
Now she is gone.  What is left is the ground, a ream of torn paper,
The sound of the rain on the ground and the audience, clapping?
O, cue the books and his furnace.