LOST 1
poetry ii. main
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| Early poetry of Nathan Coppedge LOST 1 |
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| For all there is fine-spun the linen the decking and the wire and the heat and lamp and where I think might be something like showing or sounding or making onto the platform one sturdy arm is bent is wheeling I am sure there is nothing to be made of it really just a face a uniform and I am nothing beside the sound of the smile when it decides for me that I among several at least broken bones, am tactless and will not yet relate to the final word that while I am empty there yet may be pause there yet may be something to call me into outward. poetry ii. main |
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