Why
did no one tell me
about the poet-kings
and the slow collision of light
That summer went by,
like an unlocated sound
of night, spent
on other shores
I was too young
for fire or the gasoline banquet;
burned instead
in your different breath
The wound open
to visitors and praise;
like the list of names, only
secret to ourselves
© Dean J. Baker
excerpt from THE LOST CANADIAN, VOL. 1, 112 pages, $11.99
https://www.amazon.com/Dean-J.-Baker/e/B00IC6PGQM
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