Saturnalia Ed Foster


For Armand’s Grave (1)


No great remorse—or want—

things move toward seclusion

when you, forgetting the verse,

remember the clay.

What’s forgetting but distance,

you and what you already are?


With the walls down

the words are better than

we can ever know.


they tear the thinker apart,

you say.

Unthink reason, for reason’s

not worth tearing down.



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