Monday, July 6, 2015

6858. WHEN I AWOKE

WHEN I AWOKE
Today as I rose I was walking with John Hersey.
Hiroshima once again, and not mon amour.
Today as I awoke, John Ashbery was telling
me something. When I awoke, it was with
some strange foreboding that History was 
a tide, and Poetry was a sinful salvation.

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