A Red Turning Earlier:
A Postulate for Ali Alizadeh
history’s obliterating reply
failed by possession
she clamours for ritual
in the duplicitous grey dawn
as distemporal images
horizon sibilant on riverbed cinders
we were but listless hunters
adrift in the word’s white armature
the consequence is chrysalid
you are my ruins of earth
half-articulated
something consigned to memory
plunges in the reflection of the white pall of image’s field
our presence glitters in wounded constellations
incanting you—
on this consecrated ground
I incant a name
an image’s inchoate exteriority
how do you atone for history
in the landscape of the mind
arrivals at the silence beginning
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