Starting and Then Stopping
In a flourish of speclulations I began. It was as if the whole of the mountain was moving into a small eye. I was overwhelmed with whelming. My small eye wanted something else. A cracker, or a bowl of fur.
This blog is dedicated to the individual mystery of Hitler's mustache and my book of poems Hitler's Mustache. This blog celebrates nothing that is fascist, anti-Semitic, or Hitleresque-- except his mustache, which is recognized as an emblem of the folly of his ideas and an example of the anomaly that is seemingly always in our midst. Otherwise, it's just music and whatnot.
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