@ end they walk out the
door and go dif ways
heavy electric fog settles over the days
expectations generate
abstractions frame our
days
change thrown into the Styrofoam cup of time
a pity to note the
movement of Man and men in poverty
dire everpresent and deride yet no feather out of place
on this wing
and may all creatures
number themselves one and cousins of
Death—delineated
as seven minutes after the stopping of breath
alas, we must suffer no to orient reaction according to
scale of Narratorial ‘I’
grew accustomed to
certain nausea being drawn into the pattern of your
patron and a tyrant beyond
oil the water rises to greet
thee
and meets the fog the
sea breathes
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