Written 5 February 1993.
Of Pale Misfeature
I leave behind many crackbrained letters
(frantic handshakes, brute excoriations)
to several faithful friends in dismay:
a couple of hundred yellow books
bequeathed to the shade, bequeathed to the dust,
bequeathed to the winter cubbyholes,
beneath the city dim lit, beneath the ground.
Poetry by Uncle Meridian
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Written on 2022-03-09 at 00:00
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