Tuesday, 29 July 2008


I wasn’t born
out of nothing, of everything
in general.
My specific conception was warm,
and soft, and painful.

At the mountain where
mum was slaughtered
I stop for a second
staring at trains, holding a tear.
Lavaca mooed back at 2 poems from the "Manyoushuu" anthology (ca. 759):
number 352 by Sami Mansei and number 208, anonymous.

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