The Peace of Olive
And in the bud of almost summer morning
he no longer remembers.
No longer remembers the date
of the Peace of Olive.
In vain, he rummages the is the will be the was.
Eh after it seems to me
that and in v v v
and then, in the Riss in the Mindel or in the Würm?
Or in a pluvial term?
The docent will fax his certification
test to the superintendent.
“You there, in the back. Knock it off!
The rest?” We arrest
we interpose we obscure
specularly, frozen in the pure matutinal
in a portent ~ in an
equilibrium of terror.
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