Of all the things that go unsaid.
Undifferentiated Nothingness
11.23.2011
this is not a poem.
noah.
this is
the first chapter
of
a book
you'll never read,
for it's written in a
tongue
tangled by
passions.
in
oceans under
half built
suspension bridges
and
across
nameless cities.
buried in powder
atop mountains.
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