Comments about Percy Quillwort
A Leaf From My Spiral-Bound
Moccasins on my crestfallen feet,
I took the first bus to Guam.
I hack my tobackey and grind my slack jaw,
My spirit yet lingers in old Vietnam.
Give me my pistol, Yuletide Yank,
I have the soul of Lincoln in my shirt-pocket.
Drunk in the park I loiter and wander,
A glass tear rolls down from an empty eye-socket.
I eat it all with a faintness,
Caring little for my progeny.
The crowds pass in sine waves, inverted directions,
They all shrink in fear from my dark androgyny.