Author reads "To Paula"
by Scant Montagne
How well the well you play,
The angry victim in a world of parents, inequality.
Daddy abandoned poor you
And mama was a shrew -
Lame shrew unshrewed, o vicious victim you.
Your own small mind is projector and screen.
As with lawns, you command the sun
And when it sets, say,
"I tole that ol' sun to git! I did that."
Git, Paula git. Play around.
When you think of me
Your inmost Asshole tingles - you grow hard
As styrofoam bark you start the play
Of the small, sad rebellion
Of cut vines and dead grandmothers' veins.
The elements are catching up to Paula.
And, thrice protected though I be,
Paula's catching up to me.