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Peter Montgomery
petemontdc.com
did:plc:w6hwz4k2wlphbjafuwjb5tdo
Taking a poetry break, came across this James Tate poem from "The Oblivion Ha-Ha" (1970)
The President Slumming
In a weird, forlorn voice
he cries: it is a mirage!
Then tosses a wreath of scorpions
to the children,
mounts his white nag
and creeps off into darkness,
smoking an orange.
2025-02-01T15:18:04.545Z