Updated: Apr 30, 2020

He is shipwrecked marble,

green and shattered exhausted changes

rickracked, ruined, halfway human--

Nothing else but bandaged caps

In wool and against delirium,




His blind eyes, their leaking lips,

Last year’s broken evening rest.

Hearing the songs of generations.

of castaways, mavericks, the dying

who are soothed by those green acres

Pneumatic doors groan open,

like knees without conviction,

A gesture archaic as waste

Vintages poured out of sacrifice

The cicadas’ two-note purring songs--

In the wind, small things also cry.


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