The World of Myth Magazine

notes on scraps of screen papyrus,
symbol songs
of our belongs-
inspire us
in the coffee smokes of day
where the fire was
in humid heats ash tray-
inside us
far away.
the new consensus
doesn't show
nomads
in the census
of its blow
whose glow glads
the past they left too slow:
and the falling
befalling
where we now need to go-
misfits
the steps
of the face fits
in this trough
of peaks and parapets.
so we want wildly
the wilderness that isn’t fear-
cut off,
empty,
smiley,
pallet clear-
the colours changed
so rearranged
and us not here.

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