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    INFINITE TAPS

    You have a desire to achieve something – you go to study
    Study well – you have a job
    Dream of becoming even better – study further
    You learn well – you have a very good job
    You have a job and a head on your shoulders – you go to different measures
    You go to the event – you meet people who distribute survey ads
               under the ploys
    You don’t listen to your friend who tells you not to drag it all home
    You drag it all home
    When you drag everything home – do not open the door
    Some of you are proud – and that shakes me



    PATHETICUS


    for Poachers

    PATHETICUS, let’s calm down a little bit, stop the game.
    I’ll get you the chaplain, she’ll bring you some cognac…
    What? Why would I…
    I’ll give you her number.
    What! Why would you?
    PATHETICUS…
    Think about the kid’s dinky one-watt light bulb.
    The only reason the light is on is because we keep pressing the button.
    Where does the light go?
    Into the kid’s heart, into a mass of parasympathetic fibres.
    That’s the source of the light. That’s the computer.
    Nothing inside the bulb. Nothing under it.
    When you step onto the concrete platform
    squeeze-in tight between the cables
    and breathe into the mask. Your mother will pull the lever,
    and the platform will slowly drop into the hole.
    Not really. I’m a servant at the palace. For the King!
    PATHETICUS…
    Your first words came out the moment you were born.
    You said, “My life is in your hands.”



    EVAN & EVE

    If they ask me to eat this peacock
    I will say eat, yes
    And all the luck it was prepared with
    But my mother gave birth in a field
    And it isn’t possible to make money this way
    Of course, my pseudonymous comrade
    No one should climb up another’s neck
    To make suggestions
    But the strong eat the weak
    The weak become cunning or poisonous and eat the strong
    And the slow, the slow grow horns
    Hooves, shells and eat grass
    The grass has spikes and poisonous juice
    The juice stings my fingers
    It is not the juice I want to put in my body
    Lush-colored blossom of life
    Cross on my yellow jacket, oil stains, aggressive dogs
    There ain’t enough pitfall stones in the loner’s belly
    Will have to not only work
    But work without its star
    Someone laid well-beyond the collar…
    Who is going to blow his head off now? (The whimper)
    What kind of half-fool calls me? Ah
    Rum-laced mints
    Cardboard box of big, panting winners
    Well, it’s simple
    A net for the dewing
    To get everything outside the window into your hands
    And as much you can
    Don’t cry, don’t cry
    You’re absolutely right
    Fried in oil is spelled with three I’s
    Well done, sit down
    Here’s a penny
    Get yourself some fish
    Some boiled rice
    God forbid you starve

     

    Zan de Parry now lives in Michigan.

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