From "Ten Nudes" (8)

Our fear of public speaking begins in childhood,
When public speakers would burst into our living rooms
and murder our families.

Those articulate bastards left us with nothing,
just a handful of cue-cards escaping across spearmint lawns:

1. INTRODUCTION / QUOTE FROM LEFEBVRE
MY PROFESSIONAL CAPACITY AS ARCHIVIST
IMAGINARY ADVICE

8. FATHER, OPINIONS OF WAITERS
OTHER HUMANS (FORMATIVE EXPERIENCES)
ON ANSWERING PHONE: “A LEADEN CRAPULENCE”

14. 1989: THE ENCROACHING THREAT
“INTO THE GLITTERING PALACE OF TEARS”
NORTH PIER, BOBBA FETT MASK, GOODBYE

How we swore vengeance on those public speakers!
Quiet incoherent vengeance, the best kind, muttered inside cupboards.

We bore our imposed parallels, though scarred thematically,
Endless repetitions dragging us back to the Dead Central Premise
and the sound of a teaspoon hitting a wineglass forever.

In nightmares they appeared to us as demonic, fifty-foot rainbows.
“We shall now say a few words on emptiness,” they chimed,
their mouths descending like Tetris onto our beds, finishing our sentences.

174. BACKBURNER ISSUES, PARTIAL ACQUAINTANCES
COP SHOWS AT 90°
“ALLS WELL THAT ENDS WELL” (JOKE)

We followed them through the periodicals, hating them so,
Desperate to cut them off, to bum-rush the epiphany
Waving a starter pistol, in A DEER-GOD ENSEMBLE (DISPLAY MODEL)

Behind the red curtain we could hear them rushing about,
becoming more and more eloquent as their entrance approached.

We sat there in silence, frantically inventing opinions
that our biographers would have no use for.
But it was too late. They were already imagining us naked.