Peter Streckfus

Time Ghazal

There is fire in the beginning—without it, we thought, we could not see one another ...

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Bildungsroman

Where am I. A window, blinds half opened, the maple and beautybush and smilax catching the lamplight, nodding as if a silent chorus. Beyond, the flood of the nothing audience. How much easier it is to address you when I cannot see you, turned dark, in the blackness of the sure mistake. In the dreams, disorder in a house is marked by water.

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