the better strands of a day
had been abandoned.
someone had drawn
portions of a dream,
lifting up parts from
a circular drum while all pretenders
were left baring a common fiction.
a girl stood in the middle
of a road; her cheek bled.
fast forward to where
the girl’s detached head
was set up as a bomb
which blew up a grocer
who had tried to rescue it.
such a sweet sweep of things
steeped in greed.
will a posse rule this dusty strip,
or will we just preen
as history gets soundly slapped?
Guy R. BEINING
from his series dollop 1-12.