Wounded Babylon
Wounded Babylon
I love your
confusion
the
scrambled birds of your tongue
your
simultaneous words
your Babel your Delphi
Sibyl of
enemy voice
I love it when
you say night and it is dawn
when you
say I am and it is the wind
I love your
wounded Babylon
the
misunderstanding that forces you
to make up
a fable
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