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THE AGE OF PLAGUES




To leave one’s common state, one’s familiar / 

Destiny and a shimmering blue mask, / 

Forgotten and thrown into a frozen / 

Thrownness, the mysticism of, again, / 

Beginning again, following rises / 

And origins and copious deserts— / 

No guide books, no existential mapping, / 

No primitive child with candle, leading / 

You to God knows where, beneath the chair : a / 

Rotting photograph, a death blur chanting. 




Posted 06/22/20
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