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Jul 2016
No Wolf, no Ginsburg,Β Β nada de Sylvia,
all my precious, deadened,
all my possessed, to dispose,
the garbage the city won't haul away,
even Potter's field
issues a writ of habeas corpus refus-us,
***** you-us,
our graves runneth over
with nobody's nevermore,
perfected howling
~~~
murdered victims last
murderers to the front,
howling innocent,
got no room
panning for second raters
poetic pain poseurs
~~~
some cells, microscopic, preserved digitally,
aged to imperfection, thrash my eyes,
making me speak in tongues I do not recognize,
but fluently possess, no wonder there,
the memory place fairly empty,
room aplenty for passerby's and and of the
vagaries of hasty parted spotted pitted words~~~
An excerpt from one of my many unfinished works... potter's field is where NYC has buried it's poor, alone in this world, and unknown for a century
Written by
Nat Lipstadt  M/nyc
(M/nyc)   
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