Poetry CreatOR II

Created by Jeff Lewis & Erik Sincoff

with help from Darin & Thad Nicholson

Tale of the Mercenary
Anonymous
A mercenary is marked in time, hanging with a wagon.
Stalking nothing like it was dominated--Just like a hand towel
It hurts with horny, calm abandon,
As I moan in a tree, I alarm thee
The soldier picked up the torn wing and stapled it back on the angel
Her ghost stiffens the navy blue solitary television set
As Agatha Christie's heart melted at the sight of the soldier.
While the bright sand of the beach lingered into the boxcar.
Weap bitter tears, blank face, like Caesar.. . Nothing are you, or will you ever be.


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esincoff _AT_ cs.stanford.edu