Can't compete with Mike G's poem, but broadcast an oldie from the mid-90s anyway. ____ Modernism Crews assemble my death from the bottom up, I will never die. I see them because they see me. I see wet foundations rise, concrete sewn with steel, gravel in municipal downspouts, splinters of timber, foundation for seventy floors shaping in the pit, Archimedes at Columbus Circle. "Excuse me sir. Can I ask you something?" The sunset is hopeless, the rainbow a threat. I perform an autopsy on myself. My Little Huckleberry learned his lessons. I will love exactly what I said I would love. A seller must disclose to a buyer vague kinship. It's a public town, pop a cap in my ass, Vox et praeterea nihil. The winter shakes my hand for months, My true love winces at a strange perfume and is swallowed by an avenue of buses. -EY ------------------------------------------------------------------ To change your Lit-Ideas settings (subscribe/unsub, vacation on/off, digest on/off), visit www.andreas.com/faq-lit-ideas.html