This
remnant of form the fallen cenotaph
To our meeting it is meet to scrutinize
The
smallest reasons in the absence of God
View
even the most insignificant beginnings
As
somehow beyond themselves all the earth
Shuddering
at the furthermost edge of what
As
if this or that holds back unforeseen disaster
A
scarred idea hidden in the sky’s aching elbow
The
white mouth of night no longer constrained
No
longer frozen in forms more or less fulfilled
Nothing
satisfies that hole nothing quenches
That
absence of color that absolute thirst
Beyond
us there is no noise no one breathes
In
this our land drawn away from the heart
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