Method

Standard

So concludes these triste
wanderings through summer
nostalgia. The way home
is paved in live coals.

I haven’t only to consider
the holes in the narrative.
It’s imperative that I bear
in mind the spaces between.

If you know what I mean.
I ought to glean whatever
tragic aspects I can from these
auspicious fragments,

augment their significance
to form more enticing lines.
There’s no apparent design,
but the personality

ultimately establishes
its own form of order.

-r. miller

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