SEEMING DEARTH
Like death the blind man staggers forth as much
confused as once alive : the olive tree grows
Jesus branches through his head, and he cannot
speak a word. On 21st street, the jagged memory
of Earthside crime still lingers : heroin gods, men
with steel arms, the blackened veins, protruding.
-
We buy fruit from the corner stall - all stupid
stuff, nothing worthwhile at all.
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