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Noise of A Distant Fall

01 December 2014


Noise of a distant fall and no water
but drops in the impossible

suspense. Incongruent the sound,
that rends our tent, of jets

over the wilderness. Shrouding,
shaming the sacred places

where once we felt small.
Angry future mechanistic powers

howling the ancient valleys to sunder
the old elements of air and water,

to plunder the limits of humiliated
primitives, of the comfort

they once found in nothing.
Robbed now of rhythm, of rhyme,

of the gentle massage of time …
so now, where once the passive

moon, soothing, slept us,
at the roar and sly rebuke

of the hoary demon, now,
only rem, rem, rem, rem.