Sunday 24 June 2007

Wearwolf 11, Christmas 1994


CONTESTED TERRITORY
A dialogue of traffic,
The nod of perhelion,
The come-on from a thousand stars.
The game we play
Mimics a kind of tag-wrestling
Lasting for countless centuries,
Each death simultaneously reborn.
You must excuse us though;
The planet is our audience.
IS THIS IT?
Night follows day:
Day follows night.
But then what?

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