The best thing about
gruesomely comic hippos
a phrase once heard, a
fire in itself,
a sort of mystery,
flimsy, repititious
and quite devoid,
all fragrant and green
and cool dark,
electric spontaniety
semi-hard boiled
with discontinuities in
fact highly linear
characters pouring a room
from eggs
then sinding them back,
underdone,
stabbed, rolled,
tuned-in,
their hand telling the
story -
the hippo's account of
the days drones on -
he wants to escape from
the suffocating merchant,
to get on a boat thwarted
for variety
having the right stamp
or getting into another
character,
hanging out in apartments
lacking air,
taking a bite of glass
before they found their
brand names
Paul
Baumann
