Edges
and disjuncts, shattered, bitter planes,
a wedge of disconsolate memories to echo fame,
fear of the past, a future still to blame--
Multiple
heavens, hells, nothing is straight.
You earn your money, then you wait
for so-called life to see that you get paid.
Tilt!
Again it's all gone wrong.
This is a heartless, hopeless song.
This is an empty, useless song.
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The 2River
View, 2_4 (Summer 1998)
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