Listen to the prices          for the dead--I
                can't afford to live        beyond
radio     waves transmitting
              the sound of history. Singing         an opera
                      in German long dead.      Return
                          to longing--the golden locks
    of Rapunzel.     A heap of Romanticism--
              the land has gone back
                     to death.    Brittle bones smoke
                                 and leap gracefully into
         the wind--over cliff      and heavy velvet
                  dead.        Weight is heavy freed
            of mileage. No wings burn        crisply
    as dollar bills.           Langorously today--dying
                hums over unbroken.


               outside windows.
            canary light desperation.
              absent bushes out
                                                    of machinery.
         doesn't surprise a horizon
                                                              working. outside itself.
                        relinquish art.
                                           ditches by the side
         fade away.
                                           a class unfolding.
                and men cozily stand alive
                                                           a metier hope in fields.
                                           and seeds
                 working itself out
                                                         a murmur. and cotton.

e-mail the poet at mkasimor@victorcc.net
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