first pages of E C H O [E S]

A:

I don’t understand what you’re trying to prove.

Z:

That I have nothing to prove.

 

 

A:

This path is shadow.

Z:

This I know.

 

 

A:

Do not follow the other[s]. Let y come and show the way out.

Z:

I have a new trust in right angles, perpendicular, vertical

angels. Thank the gods you are vertical, my Angel, A.

 

 

A:

Who will lead this dance of broken particulars?

Unskilled in following leads, reading directions,

I bore easily. The mind wanders with the lost violin

off the page. The musical score set afire.

 

 

Z:

Absence distracts. Not skilled at waiting for what

really? Bring on the gasoline at this juncture

of jumpy birds. We all desire to be adored.

 

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