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Pastimes : THE SLIGHTLY MODERATED BOXING RING -- Ignore unavailable to you. Want to Upgrade?

To: jcky who wrote (7535)	4/6/2002 8:27:53 PM
From: Poet	Read Replies (1) \| Respond to of 21057

An interesting poem: Curse May breath for a dead moment cease as jerking your head upward you hear as if in slow motion floor collapse evenly upon floor as one hundred and ten floors descend upon you. May what you have made descend upon you. May the listening ears of your victims their eyes their breath enter you, and eat like acid the bubble of rectitude that allowed you breath. May their breath now, in eternity, be your breath. * Now, as you wished, you cannot for us not be. May this be your single profit. Of your rectitude at last disenthralled, you seek the dead. Each time you enter them they spit you out. The dead find you are not food. Out of the great secret of morals, the imagination to enter the skin of another, what I have made is a curse. ~Frank Bidart