There’s a secret stigma, reaping wheel.
Diminish, a carnival of sorts.
Chronic town, poster torn, reaping wheel.
Stranger, stranger to these parts.
REM, Dead Letter Office
The letter must be handwritten
The letter should be honest
The letter will be detectably deceptive
The letter can be shorter than expected
The letter won’t be signed with my name
The letter could be sent from Český Krumlov, धर्मशाला *, the Arsenal
…so that you’ll realize that a letter seldom is a bridge, or an open door.
This letter of mine is just an assemblage of separate elements
sapphire ink and ivory paper
and wry, wizen words
to justify archive
MY wide-eyed cowardice, YOUR jocose hypocrisy.
{Originally written on May, 23rd 2008. Still so true. And no letter has been written.}
