bohemian egg (1988)
german atheists paint rainbow landscapes and sell them on the corner for a cup of coffee or beer.
they eat their manuscripts and burn their hair for warmth
seven moons are reflected in the storm windows of the testament building, each is pocked
at night they blow lint across the air, suspending it like pain it rests on their furrowed foreheads if they ever sleep
wallpaper roars in agony moon peels the carbon night away leaving divots on the golfballs of hunger they clutch and cradle
two minute eggs on the fairway course of bohemia
lawrence kansas 1988
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