The ground above is green, with sheets of cover,

some peddlers have thrown a wavering mix of salads,

spouts of white eggs

that never could make it to the market

 

Where I am about to step

Is not woven with the certainty I saw

embedded in structures

As if the voice stood its ground

Stooping to listen

 

Where there is no daring

I am about to dare

When no one will weep

I will have my eye lids swollen

sticking my heart out

for the next tragedy

 

The meadows are wide and deep

Where the furloughs left no home

And the sweepstakes of a reform

Blew the light out of former stations

Where the act was forming

 

The city must be listening

Where the tides lashed

And the crowded quarters left the brim

For life and outside

It is the same aching wish

 

Thailand, 20th July

Life and outside

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