The Cruel

http://www.alansondheim.org/41.jpg
http://www.alansondheim.org/43.jpg

I look at my instruments and they are silent & weep.
They are things in my place, they're withdrawing.
I look at my body and realize, no one can see his body.
No one can see her body either. Who is he and she?
Waking democracy grinds to a halt.
The road is smeared with erased remnants.
What is erased _now_ never happened, _now_ never happens.
I am fearful of writing to the edge of the page.
Your extension is not my own, you extension is not my body.
My arms fall to the floor. I write too short now.
My arms fall to the floor.

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