Monday, 19. May 2008
Further North
He takes trains and planes, always with a book
of poems in his pockets, for there is a great need
for talismans in this time of post-time.
Like the rain that had falls equally on the thorns and the roses of the century, history corrodes secreted personal memory.
It is for this reason, perhaps, Paul and Primo had left this world via the Seine, via the stair, leaving a flowering axe, and a periodic table.
My Poems
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