Landscape, with phantasms

Noon with its white horse and houses of plague,
evening with its shrouded owls. Biology

of illusions. Everything we wear and shed
and shoot, borrowed from the ransacked past.  

Domes of churches glow pink in the sunset,
made beautiful by all these curtains of smog.
In their shadow, vendors with oily trays 
of beads and amulets. There used to be a zoo 

somewhere in the heart of the old city: 
emaciated elephants, drying pools where 

they kept a mermaid dressed in verdigris.
I wanted to ask her how to tune this instrument 

that seems designed for continuous mourning. 
I wanted to ask her about how to be in two

places at once: the heart swishing in
a mason jar, the womb-space bluing the water. 


In response to Via Negativa: Circadian.

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