Saturday, 26 October 2019

Things are rarely as we think they are

however we play them on the grey sitar
of consciousness.
Books are the most dizzying disease
the most poetic conflagration
ever to destroy the gentle trees.
All poems are hewed, are found
and foundlings. Those that survive are bound
to suffer. Comfort is the enemy of observation.

No good death can put to death
an evil death or deed, nor a million
good lives an evil one.
Devil-woe-men stunned and stun,
stoned and stone
to exorcise the sun.
Planets have come; planets have gone.

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