On backroads in Kansas, past the dark glowworm trails a radish-man lies telling stories of Oz He holds mustard-dipped gravel to tell of the by-ways he spins like a cyclone of locution and bywords moving nothing but lips In the hole where they grew him lay devotions and spirits that fled his corrupt house when [...]
there’s a mirror-man, with dark, rough hands, in the theatre-alley of retrospect that cues the finest intros his long-cane stills my stuttering lips and over-weight pride en-lightens a destroyer and a builder in turns I smile and fight him as his bruised hands motion for my next act bright stage lights flare precisely when I [...]
