“Many masterpieces were built on omissions, agendas to write out from.”
‘‘How well you conjugate the paradigm of despair;
But your sensum to translate Sallustius is no longer of this world.”
I have deserved, pupil, this past perfect of an auxiliary to bear loss,
Relieving pretenders and provinces,
Signing the truce between longing and long gone, deposed and deponent.
Pounding rain then had us leave through the chapel,
Lights dimmed to protect a Stanzione.
To the gate, and then we turned Saturday promises
Into active mode, shining on the cobblestones.
We too spoke a language different from that of our parents.
But it’s worse than foreign; it’s dead, dead.
The Anthology says: ‘In what is mediocre in me, I am universal.’
This is no longer the world where horti will be located or donated.
July 31, 2025 [Issue 46]
Grey Sparrow Journal 