Poem: Conversation
Conversation
Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when publishedThe present is a world
because the public arrives
at a natural corner, new styles
in stone on the beach.
This is a utopia. It’s just haunted. Wake up.
Or has my clothing lost you
to your manuals? My train’s
arriving in tangled violence,
the illegible steam of progress.
Wake up in the middle
of a dream in which
you see the mouth
announcing an essential fact of life
and then
the sacking of a city.