L’oiseau fou

 

Its longevity it can satisfy

 

Dimensions have been liquefied by rhetoric

 

From the height of his passport the janissary
Has closed the case

 

In its little cottage it has wept

 

Like sunshine
The janissary emerges from his monolithic yoke
And vomits upon his robe a river of imperfect

 

 

Paul Novis