I had a dream that people were huddled over my poems and discussing their content and really involved and almost arguing and laughing and really getting into it, and that I had some validation, but it was my imagination, one of those
Crazy fever dreams when it's
5 am and you're delirious and half awake.
I don't mind, it just means I have the
Auditorium to my self.
I set the matches on the table along with the gasoline; I'm tired of the circle ****.
The flies shall speak, and they shall simply buzz around the *****
cake in the hall  reserved for spectators