Inland Seas

The eddies midstream, air filled,/with ancient oaths/they gain ground upstream…/Towards flecks blue and white,/they glimmer on open water,/ the ways of a foreign sun./Thoroughfares to the cold dawn:/of all known avenues,/it’s the dearest ,/of all pathways, the nearest,/in a crooked line of diesels/it makes for warfare./Take time to watch the eggs hatch/under hot lights, and on display./There’s no sense to the speech on the matter/years went by, they became oaths groaned./We dwelt here for ciphers, sought codes,/wringing our hands in disconsolate sunlight. /We pay no mind to a merchant prince,/in arabesque and envy,/he rules a dozen realms, heavy./Find surprises in these thoroughfares/the weight doubles, side by side,/diesel hum carried across the basin./On black masks of water, a pale walkway,/the names of streets glimmer;/we mount the stairway./In lodgings other than our own,/defeated on downstream,/ oppressive arms turn wheels/where the Zodiac keeps time, without grief,/in the margins testified: the inland sea.

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