Poem Of The Day
In the latest New Yorker, by Charles Simic. Seems appropriate, considering all the, you know, lunatic disasters going on in the Levant right now.
Madmen Are Running The World
Watch it spin like a wheel
and get stuck in the mud.
The truck is full of caged chickens
squawking about their fate.
The driver has gone to get help
in a dive with a live band.
Myrtle, Phyllis--or whatever they call you girls!
get some shut-eye while you can.
i hate everyone.
http://www.randomhouse.com/modernlibrary/100bestnovels.html
Even Myrtle? For fuck'ssake--even Phyllis?