10 names



for the white matter slipping between
us
   sorting itself 
to make another way back.

Tell me
   some oratorical satire.

I want to believe you
then laugh at you.

 


 

1 thought

Poetry is a dog’s work,
writing is a phase to lose.

There is no food in principles,
the principle is in the food.

To forge without craftiness,
an utter waste of labor.

History is a fool,
vanity is now.

There is no recollection.

The word spoken in silence
already is.

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