Monday, April 23, 2018

blades paleo, elapsed alb


(view from proxima b via)

One installment of the Nabokov-Wilson feud.

hwyl & subsidence & nothing gained.
the night's warmth fled, the dawn brings chilly dew:
commute to chosen music, wend the cones
as java's benison hardens into will.
i trust in sev'ral scattered knights at scrimmage,
onlyso i can return to my cricket-vigils,
that this pale saffron light prove all-sufficient
as i & my words alike fade out & pass.

kinephantom call it, not real time
in which one causal link begets another
& the cars zoom on like they had goals & dreams;
our probes reach distant planets, decay sets in
& eke this tapestry with moths a-flutter

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