Friday, February 5, 2016


Tethered as you have to be
to provenance –

to roots you can’t deny supply you
with the whole of what contrives you –

how strange to find you’re stunned
by what you are.

Knowing you’ve been gunned
like buckshot from some ancient
vast exploding star

explains exactly nothing of the reverie
you’ve now become.

Best, if you are asked about it,
to play dumb.


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