Reverberation of images
A small pretence at the benign
The idolised object, disintegrating
Even stone sits unsatisfied
By this wearing away to nothing
They ask for poems on seasons, buildings, yachts
I obliged in a single phrase
But not in the way I intended
I don't know if any object was identified
But even so continue with the sign
Continue on as if in a return
To the same season, building, yacht
I once avoided
When the words were more anodyne
Than they are here.
Very fine, Danny.
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