12 December 2008
Welcome to
Tar Heel Plaza to be exact: prosperous capital of sin and swine.
Direct your attention, if you will, if you please,
over thataways. That’s
home of the world's largest
hog processing plant,
the one that put the ever-loving swill and swish-chute
in your gummies,
rollies,
and packers. [This is a lottery.]
Today: 4000 ballots cast like anglers for a cat.
I cannot say that anyone cheated.
Judgment.
Said Fulcher, poor, poor Fulcher, Fulcher of the livestock section:
We are able to speak now
We will be treated fairly
Alas, another lesson and hoedown for the cafeteria netheryear and netherfolk:
A lot of people have not been treated fairly
But a victory and victory dance alike
cannot be scorned. Remember.
And so upon the Plaza steps the workers danced and danced and danced.
It went on and on like that, reeling.
And all throughout the evening the sun imagined and wanted desperately to say,
Fulcher again, voice cracking:
We have worked hard for this and we did it and we can continue to do it
All I want is for everybody to be together
As long as we do that we can make it
Not to all of a sudden spring
a full moon on you, but a full moon it is, and dark,
a full moon nonetheless, chasing me, now.
I mean to tell you a full moon, and a dark moon.
My man dread: There is a sense of relief that it will finally be over.
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2 comments:
Huzzah, sir, and huzzah!
Huzzah I might say, too. Or Hurrah. Or Monkfish. But the truth is? It's a hell of a poem. You are on the edge of it all.
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