Alan Sondheim on 26 Oct 2000 16:42:03 -0000

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a man is dead at every instance of the letter
a woman is dead thereunto
woman is dead at every instance of the letter
man is dead thereunto

behold the last second of the day, when humans originate
across the great divide, behold the last thirtieth of a second
the fragility of what has become the lip from which we issue forth

until noon, the stromatolites alone
until, behold, thereunto, three in the cold cold afternoon

behold the violence wracking the slim planet time and time again
behold the ideologies of froth insect-minds carrying on this violent work

the divide is immeasurable and writing this a man is dead, has died
immeasurable space, writing this a woman, dead, all women and all men

all have died thereunto behold until, at the very lip of time
all are dying at every instance thereunto, behold, at such lips of space

archives grate against archives and we are blind behold thereunto until
archives collapse are gathered among the dead and those of all are dying

behold the instance of the very lip of time and its irritation

thereunto men are dying amidst the lips of vastness, time and space

until thereunto women dying, all are bleak, until, begone


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