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sonnet from another horizon, sunset


by strannikov


the day's sirens beckon, well to ignore they

while living through sequential events,

they have only last week's forecasts to report.

it often is not easy to tell

amid a day where the reckoning heads next,

whether what does occur is the turn

into another age or one now remote,

an old millennium or the next.

antiquity and posterity see us,

at us they wave after each other in turn,

they inquire of each other as both necks twist

while our arc of circumambulation veers:

impossible to say gravity steers us

or whether our childhoods are only asleep.

 

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