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by Paul Duling
We wake from some ancient perfect land,
and think of how to meet
the cost of getting up,
where to go among the streets
to earn another night
up all-day flights of stairs
to "No, we don't need you"
return to the stranded room
count our pieces of the day.
In the darkness growing
under the ceiling's carousel
all-night neons wink from tramp stores
an instant there not there off on
truth untruth confirmed voided
We lie among velvet trees
and draw around us leaves of sleep.
© Copyright, Paul Duling 1990, All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 1997, 2019, The Fairfield Review Inc., All Rights Reserved.
Document last modified on: 01/06/2007