Proof Positive
Zabione, Kobu
Postmodern prose poems.
Of course the unknown poet can produce no papers. He has no face, no name, he is simply like space, but warm and fragrant of fresh bean curd. Because I've read books and appreciate an interesting life, I knock and introduce myself at his door, from which his beard sticks out. Over in one corner of an English-style garden a crew is setting up for a fashion shot. Candy is soft compared to coins. Coins have presidents, ...