The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive


this is just a souvenir
of my antenna in the air
searching up and down for where
the signals come to haunt my dreams
radio's not what it seems
there are no perspicacious beams
the world's not hardly what it seems
although it rattles all my dreams
i move the wires searching where
signals fall through sullen air
to radio maw and radio leer

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