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SuperimpositionTo David Christian Stanfield's previous piece     The Artist, frustratedTo David's next piece

A piece of litter on the road’s shoulder beckons my attention—
A little sliver of silver glistening in the summer sun—
Even a blade of grass needs a helping hand sometimes . . .


       sometimes I wear my halo down around my collar
       like a choker

       (even an angel has his demons)

sometimes it’s nicer to be in the audience—
(the view’s better)

       sometimes when the muse strikes me,
       she uses a base ball bat