The Alan Sondheim Mail Archive

Crystal City


my thoughts turn to animals floating and turbulent in whatever
sky and water floating and projecting no one else can see what i
see what i have seen what ghosts what miasmas attracted from my
brutal birthplace where i cannot count the uncountable where i
cannot ascertain the unaccounted-for where i am bereft where the
sun refuses its character of nightly assignations

from the hollow world into the hollow world sky fractures where
i am bereft where the floating projects itself into those who
are stationed there where the humane land must reject our
violent american ways

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