Letters To My Friends
this hell
they say – ‘tis real
yea! in the best of its crude
real-ity!
when all the moons
in all the nights
past me like an hermit
… the nights were un-starry
& days mourn’d at best
whilst death-wishing eloquence
danced the dizzy hours
& their loathesome moons
a countryside lied
in a gravely cave
& forlorn mounts & hills
mixt with their dead
almost my … self!
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