HOW WE SHOULD FEEL (WAYS OF PARADOX) — SEVENTY HETERONYMS

Henry’s been dead a long time in that ghost
Wood, planted somewhere ‘tween truth
And fiction, taking and taken advantage of,

Like mice at dusk on a cool summer evening,
Maybe in Patagonia, never lying or lied to,
Especially after a fresh haircut, listen,

He went West still longing for Slavic heat,
Knowing we’re nowhere near there, we’re still
East, seeing it all as terrifying but hilarious.

via HOW WE SHOULD FEEL (WAYS OF PARADOX) — SEVENTY HETERONYMS

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