IT'S THE END OF MY FACE
This jawline like a landscape this
rubble like a rock : I walk with
big feet on the face of a jumpy
moon - leaping in place, and staying.
Once this was all a fairy tale, a
marginal endeavor, a dream. Now
they pay me off in rubles no one wants.
Anyway, minding a minute for an hour
or two is not so bad. They've found I
favor St. Augustine's City of God, so
that's all they allow me to read. And
read I do - pages for hours a day.
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