Monday, 17 March 2014

71. & If There Isn’t a Reader - Disordered

Are we not all children of the earth & sky?
And in our play across that surface don’t we
Destroy & stamp back into emptiness what
once we had raised up in common as our feast?

Yes it’s all unstable, as guilty as matter always is
That old trick of nothingness’s fertile dialectic
Unfolding the luscious flesh of universes here
To fall back into the empty box into which we too shall disappear.

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