Friday, November 25, 2016



Far from all forms of charity,
I am the prophet, the retired apostle
of faith in myself. 

My friends‒escape artists,
foreshadowers of verses,
sunk in the quicksands of language.

They believe in the melodies I babble
exalting legendray elephant graveyards
& mystic monsoons.

We witness the paradigms of a century fall
while celebrating a Wimbledon match,
a joy much greater than a revolution.

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