Poem 1979 (3)


The vain heart foams

Why not build on ruins
or some awareness that warps our lives
with unrestrained effort
of the forsaken

Maybe build on a lie
which clogs our mouth
with deception’s ambrosia
or the sourness of smoke

Perhaps build on a look
wild varnish in our eyes
an architecture of stare
unbearable even to us

Then dictate a delirium
History written in our groans
coating this world with language
until it cannot take root.


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