poetry critical

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i found myself there, in that vast expanse, in the charnel pits of wish and prayer picking among cracked bone and shattered carapace. charred words; dead words in tongues forgotten. i let my own fall, for the words were meaningless. but they did not fall with melancholy.

12 Jul 18

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sophisticated and well poised writing, kind of like in the lit section of popular science.
 — cadmium

haunting  charred remains of languages not spoken
 — Rossant