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Nocturnal

by
December 2008–January 2009, no. 307

Nocturnal

by
December 2008–January 2009, no. 307

It’s midnight now and sounds like midnight then,
The words like distant stars that faintly grace
       The all-pervading dark of space,
       But not meant for the world of men.
                    It’s not what we forget
But what was never known we most regret
Discovery of. Checking one last cassette
Among my old unlabelled discards, few
Of which reward the playing, I find you.

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