Let me tell you about it all, all.

Let me sum up again with an awkward, imprecise cascade.

… Truth is a mighty volume of epigrams and paradoxes.

… Real truth is caught in single word.

… And the ultimate truth bleeds even now in a-

Wreathed mess of skinless time. Time!

The last living poet just crossed the fence and told all

about her serene.

So, how I can no longer try to sound like an eclectic.

Little son of bitch.

Now, I’m gonna haft a wait for the next living poet.

The last living magician sold all his tricks and then be disappeared.

So, now I can’t even try to fool my friends all their so-called-

Parties!

So, now the illusions are less than fodder for fools- and even-

So-called Wiseman- and maybe poets too.

The last political is about to!! …

The Unpredictable