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Poems

Inside a Sound Inside

in a strange state

of mind

strained vocal chords and

coming down from something

 

if only it could be

described, the atmosphere

of an empty

subway station

 

(not at the Metro,

even though

what Pound associated with a log

might as well have been empty)

 

dripping pipe water,

phantom-high-pitched

turn-style machine sounds,

the sounds of machines haunting

 

resonating throughout

the platform where

self-destruction

becomes a feeling

 

alone,

the horse’s ghost

beats its corpse,

alone

 

smoking under a sign that

says not to,

someone comes down,

so one stops and one starts

 

there was a time

in the mind,

when hell was passed through,

and it was here