18 April 1996 The News had never been so offended in her life. She stormed out of the office, trailing color supplements and editorials and classifieds. She tore down the metal stairs forty flights through the lobby and out the revolving door faster than that anteater that ate through my mind melts and fries fries quickly through space overhead for bats I club bluntly inert and passive person voice to leading sleep competitor through who I protest flicker pivots.


  The News fell asleep.

Newspoetry at Spineless Books