Foreign Tongue

It comes as a vector/ from cuneiform tablets/ you find messages/maybe superfluous/detailing sickness / wreaking havoc/ leaving you wasted /completing a picture/of those concealing ardor./ They feel a kinship with the stars,/cool moss glows on trees,/ in directions we’ve taken/ we will never be giants /or blights from important locusts/we are pinwheels of distraction/in poses we stay ghosted. /The evidence is of luck/luck in motion, luck at rest,/bruised by hidden meaning/ it deafens its’ solemn monarch. / A regent in dells and hollows /steals power over the seasons.

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