hello to the dead years hello to the girls in yellow hats, kissing the library windows and pretending they are kissing husbands. hello to the young dead men in trenches, pulsing with no heat, maggots curling around skullcaps and helmets and dead dreams. hello to the girls standing at the train platform, waiting for him… Continue reading poem: we were the world, at war
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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 