On Jack everyone is a believer. In a
flat earth.
Not the geography. But history.
Time is a cliff we fall over. God is
waiting to catch us. But he has no arms.
I got to thinking that I have no right
to tell my children what I've found. Empty cupboards. A sadness so
heavy and without reason.
But in all of this they send the poets
to teach classes in literature in eastern universities.
Where the end of every poem has a
smile.
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