Kruller -- December 1999
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HOME, HOME

Entangled in the power lines
lies the balloon I bought for her
at a carnival whose
merry-go-round mirrors, riddled with holes,
were spun by albinos
like cotton candy. The eyeless
clowns who clipped the high wire
with elephantine scissors
as we found our seats

led us to a shooting range
complete with deer, buffalo
and a young farmer who casts
flat shadows on his corn and begs us
not to fire
while a tramp sweeps the light
and tents to dirt, wagon ruts.

The skies aren't cloudy all day, but she's been kidnapped, detective.

Amuse me with a solution: who becomes an aerialist, an artist of height?

This is your center ring and your word is law.

Show everyone that badge, show them a hundred times.

Early autumn: we're reminded of the leaves.
I return to my
wife without our daughter.
Of course, she knows, she's bolted
the porch. Only now do I need
the strongman. It's OK though--
I've three doors and five other pairs
of shoes. If I get
bored tonight, I'll watch the Lone Ranger
for eight hours tomorrow,
swing the scales.


--Jon Soverow



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