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The Invisible Circus
I looked around
and found the prancing devils
showered in sacred veils,
the cobbled pavements
filled with footsteps
without any pursuit
Why am I here?
And nowhere at all?
This dreadful drudgery
seething into my lungs,
this farce comedy
lurking like a tiger
ready to pounce
Such banal superficiality
in tragic charades -
caprices and cavalcades;
why do I have to play
this goddamn harlequinade?
poem
by
Norman Santos
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