I'm the interminable fields you can't see -- Franz Wright
we meet on the last day wrapped
in irony and blankness,
my promises coming into your ears
like an empty wind,
entering a shattered drum,
there will be rejection
and whatever ways we elicit us
will render versions
but we will be the fields of bipolar ends
where I will watch from a street
corner called 'magic'
stalking our abilities to connect
from cosmoses apart
and there will be mock guffaws
at the way we exist
but we can be the fields of inventions --
we can be the insignificant
things of banished acceptability --
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