no conquest but
one or two places

no one thing

Having looked not enough at what the sad world presents

and tempted to turn to this less useful book of words,

he says Sand and River and names the kinds of them all

voices voices he calls them Voices calling numbers in

his sleep. A sliver of rippling sirens strewn with dog.

The heartache of an empire misunderstood over against

a risible scrim of noodles and hats, swastika languors,

paper burnt after kind poems departed. Some to the sun.

Comments

Christopher F

Thanks for the visit. We're reading this space in a Feedly. Looking forward to your next visit.

Tom

I was happy see you guys. Does this look okay in Feedly? I imagine it would since it's just text. Yeah, time will tell if its a sooner or later visit.

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