These men are already dead.
Don’t you see how their hands
are trees incapable of leafing out?Leave. You’ll lose. These men
are ghosts: they can see
what cards you’re holding. Seehow their money is yellow,
curled and brittle like pictures
of naked girls in a smoker’s house?You can’t win, I tell you.
Drop the leaves of your cards.
You must be the autumn.
—Austin Smith
(Source: lo-ball.org)
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These men are already dead. Don’t you see how their hands are trees incapable of leafing out? Leave. You’ll lose. These...
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