THE DICTIONARY OF COMMONPLACE ITEMS: ENTRY #601
In dreams,
the amputee
is whole,
the complete is halved-
the dusk you slip into by weighted lids
dawns its burning orbs across your dreamday
& the hanged man balances,
like a multi-colored Jongleur on his one leg
in the middle of your Paris street,
articulating himself
with a Castilian accent.
This poem was written by IG Agent 18
Author of The Mixtape Of Taliesin