First person was a ragpicker
searching only at the surface
in the midst of ruins
facing deep wounds of life.
Feeding his smallness
interpreting meaning to survive.
weird, dirty, plundered
game of dreams.
Conflicts always threw up
something ugly, deliberately
distorting the pretensions
accurate vision.
The desire endured disillusionment
once, for statue’s sake.
Beautiful garden was decaying slowly
in the eye of a storm.
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