forgiveness on the range
broke a tone, samovar, it’s in the reading
of the liber mortuis where stabilization resides,
where the path brokers a time a place—
a memory of aristocracy’s station. I abstracted
an eye for you, a compassion—stereoscopic
vision, carry forward the impossibilities,
race me for some tacos, arrested with foresight,
comrades, sputter—but never forgive!
.
O! You scrounge!
O! You scrounge!
Blathering! The past
punches your shoulder, taps youin the solar plexus,again another shotto the sternum,appendectomywith a mattock—rough stigmas foldthe body in half, time bursts assignments,
which open again, ascend to the source,
on a liquid stream, a ladder,
Heaven’s voice.
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