Yes, we escape, but not the white noise
other excesses & pleasures stripped out
here
wisdom is to huddle together in the event
nothing looks in
“Everyone you know / is lost somewhere”
Well, OK, that explains the silence, the
ripped
paper scattered as if there’d been rioting
in the next valley
Remembrance & silence - their cold clear
taste
vivid, affectless yet painful, shrivelling
this place just a stain on appearance where
nothing looks in
All these lies: play, labour, despite and
even grandmothers. How can this be explained?
Rotting down together, a macedoine of verbal
events
in the next valley
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