2 March 2004 | Vol. 4, No. 1
Cyclops Mary Down the Avenue, A Monologue
(part II)
Yeah, I heard it.
Saw the whole thought form
from out the back of his head,
then take shape into one lust-musty sentence.
I saw
his sick-yellow eyes.
White spit beading at the corners of his mouth.
Yeah. I heard it.