Wednesday, April 10, 2013


Do you know,
Those Little Russian Dolls?
The Stackers?
The Cannibals of each their smaller size,
Their inverse expulsion to once more be laid bare?
How they might be like people,
With our many masks?
Each one removed,
To find another beneath?
More or Less hidden?
How when all is excised,
You find nothing inside.
What was missing I wonder,
The Smallest Piece?
Some kind of cosmic joke,
To find yourself the onion,
In a store full of mangos.

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