-John Weiners
returning somehow again
justifies the place it meant to leave
the thrust of the
argument goes
bye
so thin falls out in the bath in your
hand
wilted rose of my time
not mine anymore
and yet
eyes refuse
to belie or strike a tale
the spark of a stone is a breath
but when no breath only two stones
in cold light
we feel to be watching
a darker clowning
we are
watching burn
the second sun
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