POEM
HAPPY WERE THE PEOPLE GIVEN NEW POSTURES TO PERFORM AT DAWN AND AGAIN AT DUSK
If it isn’t comprehensible, then what shall we do with the body, Mother?
If it isn’t comprehensible, then what shall we do with the body, Mother?
Labels: Dialogue [Fragment of], Dream, Italics, Maternal Remnants, Rhetorical Stamps, Short Poems
posted by Jon Cone at
7:11 AM
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