Wikipedia Poem, No. 313

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“The butcher-boy puts off his killing-clothes, or sharpens his knife at the stall in the market, / I loiter enjoying his repartee and his shuffle and break-down.” Whitman

 

easier fornpike runs 
havemselve 
    runter swerve slit 
back 
whenter 
den 
od
den 
    itselveselves haven 
    out let the brain slit and selveselves 
the 
    withit the for 
   swerve 
    rund troove 
re eas 
have 
    runs eve 
for swervenly 
but loods true 
event 
bacurrent 
   bacurren 
    
itslit t 
the and s 
  havent ba currrent a 
spls 
an 
   withen 
    fly 
    ands 
    hack whe 
milves ack whemsely ands 
      haves and troods hemselinter 
   themselve 
  
        butrue 
evenloods 
    the 
hen floods 
evenlet 
a 
  and 
true 
      
the brain for 
   themse millinternpikent 
  ba curroddent bacurren withe 
miloods a 
     splet 
a 
     runs runs 
    trodds 
    have slinter 
      for to puturnpit 
the slit 
    leturn
plinte

Occipital Sacrifice

volition-web

Give up the platitude 
For page 1
I know you have it in you;

O me! 
O life! 

The old poets became poems
Publishing houses, iconic paper 
Products, big muscular

Names under which the poor
Insert quarters, the confederate
Rich remove rings 

Of Saturnalia, too 
On the nose.

Command-W

The greasy, banister-cool
Hand props up some very mediocre
Problems

Type the word
Face
Enter

The computer does the rest
This
Is no way to live.

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