Porcelain Clarity
I sat with the Marine Sergeant Major,
retired, shot up over Bosnia, but full
of reaction, sipping beer, playing with
the odds that he would kill me for no
reason.
posted by John Tischer @ 7:14 PM
1 Comments
1 Comments:
This really happened. That's why the title deserves the
poem.
Or, how the title and the poem reflect each other's
snapshot like mirrors looking into each other.
Right now we speak through electrons.
Soon we will speak through subtle plasma.
Or else, I'm wrong.
But, not so far.
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