Monday, November 9, 2009

The horizon chord.

What trace of the universe will remain
In that horizon chord--
Orpheus forgotten,
Our favorite bands forgetten,
Our jeans turned back into dust?

Who will rifle through the crates,
Find all that we left--
Or at least some?

Who will play the other side and notice in the straying black scratches that
We loved it nearly as much as

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