The Writer

the writer
interested in figures
began to write
and a procession
of grotesques
crept out of
the writer
before his eyes

at least a small
like a small grotesque
of figures
before his eyes
concerning his thoughts
some almost beautiful

the figures
crept out of the
old writer
once quite handsome
who had been in love
with a long procession
of life

he began to write
he had known people
many different from
the figures
not all horrible
some almost

he had known them
in his eyes
he imagined the eyes
of the writer

you see
the interest in figures
that went before
were the people in his mind
who for an hour
became grotesques
in his head
sleepy but still conscious

and when they passed
during his dream
that was not in the eyes of
the writer
they made his bed

when they passed
and made his bed

(cut-up: Winesburg, Ohio – Sherwood Anderson)

On the Found

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