1327
20.viii.23
4.233
everyone’s trying to
get into a poem
it might be just to ask a question
might just be so as to be lost
there’s only so much room
scroll down
sometimes read a first line ten times
and still no one’s at home
is it leap onto a moving carriage?
could be the step is just too high
there’s looking for far vistas
when the poem is a door
nevertheless and even so
everyone wants into the poem
for some it’s that something was left there
has to be retrieved
heirloom or tip of the tongue
you name it if you can
the little world is a gaol
into which they are trying to break
some have used own cannon for this
many must improvise
it’s a rescue mission
get in, get out quick, hold nose
something has died in there
or it could be our ancestors’ underwear
correctly identified as a curse
perhaps more like a prayer in reverse
as if there were some kind of heaven
wishing we were
how few in fact will think
but this is where we are
I looked for the socks I was wearing
and they were on my feet
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