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Poetry: Peter Pan

For Hollywood’s sake, it would
be well for the authoress of
‘Gone With the Wind’ to re-
write same, giving Miss Scarlett
O’Hara either one slightly crossed
eye, one bucked tooth, or one
size-nine shoe.

            -J.D. Salinger
That hollow blast or homely creature
In damp corners chained to walls
In the wave of a hand or its deft quake
past false intentions or lies
Comes down to stamp the face –
blacken and blue the darting, lying eye

There is no ghostly apparition
Peeled or sewn back – even as children
we laughed at the thought.

Were it only we could
point at some spot—
 the ground to explain and say cleanly that
it is away – below us slithering in the dirt. 
But he is where people loathe admission most
in the seedy red-light districts
of souls.
Three drinking buddies.
Holy trinity of self interest and congratulation
Charity, compassion, self

Poetry: Maybe if I was a Goner