Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Beauty is a thing of the past.

I am rewarded to crouch behind a new mask,
A bracingly ugly crutch--

One as much I fooled around and found as
I pieced together and made.

If it lows it must, in monstrous notes
So beautifully track to transpose--

This thing has a rat's unceding heart,
And follows a dog's unerring nose.

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