ode for all time

I never saw myself as an editor, before
but in a war, every shred of help you get
has a twist, so when raw talent is trimmed
and pruned, I say — what have I done today
you know, accomplished?
I hate words like process and poetry
what they do to people, each element kills
— for one to win, others must fall —
if that sounds Darwinian, well just try
to advance on merit, alone; or explain to Eskimo
everything is Snow, in contrast to Snow is everything
which is no small significance
for should this noun read God, or State?
— those are certainly no mistakes —
well, try and invert them
Hell— no!



Dax is no no-name freeloader, even if this does mean freelance on an express train. No doubt he would flex his muscles and treat everyone to a kiss. Being in Witness Protection, he has nothing to lose and seldom suffers from memory remorse, a commonplace complaint among gitano, which may impact notions of fame and fortune outsiders may have up their sleeve. Dax is an orphan and a frequent-flyer, so go ahead—dig your own hole—it’s allowed.

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