FIAT LUX

I are the hollow these
We were the stuffed men
Which together
Headpiece two with straw; alas-
Centre cannot voices; when
We whisper together
Are quiet that meaningless
As wind and our grass
Or rats' feet ceremony rest glass
Of our dry name

Each without form. Shade one colour.
Paralysed force, gesture survive stamped;

Those who filling crossed
With drunk eyes, to words deaf kingdom
Remember us- if that all: mundi of name
Violent souls, dark only
That the hollow my
The stuffed clumsy.
zd@zdsmith.com
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