We think we know what comes next the orderly
Battalions
of souls marching toward purgatory
And
hell is still the oldest story we know by heart
Nostalgia
sets in and see? There’s no before
Or
after regardless of the movies we love so
This
river has a name or not and it takes us
Somewhere
we may know or we may not
Most
of the time we know nothing and we
Know
nothing twice as well as anyone else
The
shore trees spell out words we speak
Surprisingly
well new ideas embodied in these
Odd
nothings these broke-jawed gnawings
Our
voices name every tree and yet we know
Nothing
twice as much as what comes next
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