Spelling Bee

The whole event was a mater of record, /glittering smiles, of a certain style,/ but somehow tethered to ashen limbs/ the man with one eye sat on the roof of the hotel, with a plate of smoked oysters before him,/cartoons, in brushstrokes, unfold before his very eyes /they give way in the twilight./While he sheds his skin, seems to swim,/ but now partakes of the night/ arms outstretched in pose of crucifixion /he imagines his name in lights but it’s a likeness, not a true image, /he’s portrayed by his disease/ brought on by gathered crows, /slick black feathers in the rain. This tired routine makes certain/ an escape to the park,/ in cahoots with a desk clerk ./Before a feud starts between them /they both wish now could be before,/in a schoolhouse, their hides flayed, the facts explained /as attempts to manage their feud /by lettered notation: it’s the same word as expedition

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