Friday, December 26, 2025

Where Thought Goes to Die

With your imagined hammer,

         see bright bits 

of imagined personality

         blow weightless

in imagined breezes.

         Imagined reflections,

against imagined blue pasts

         floating down upon

an imagined field,

         imagined dry and barren

save for an imagined stone,

         imagined leaning 

at an angle askew in grass

         imagined uncut,

poorly carved by imagined

         stonecutters to read 

in imagined sunlight,

         “Here lie dreams

told to a future

         imagined universe,

poorly transcribed

         by Honor Usurped 

by Usurper Honored”

         Imagined date missing.

         

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