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Poem Beginning with a Line by Farough Farrokhzad
let us believe in the ruined
gardens of imagination
even in autumn rain
there’s still such radiance
leaves underfoot whisper
my wishbone song
really just a rhythm imposed
on the slow fires of decay
but now church bells
make for a glistening listen
the dead have nothing
and everything to do
with the emptiness
of numbers
their carnival is upon us
scarlet oaks glowing