men left africa. i left them, too. i went back to the caravan cart and sat with my white feet under the tarp, and watched them stream out of the savannah, a great dark comet rolling his way across the motherland. i left them, and i stayed on the continent. i stayed alone, but i… Continue reading poem: africa
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i could be bound in a nutshell and count it as infinite space if not for these bad dreams
the last pavilion 