The Utopian

Jan 3, 2022


There was no subtlety in the dismemberment:

The landscape was stripped to its skeleton. The

Trees pulled up, the stones tossed into a pond.

No one can endure like this, indefinitely. They

cannot. New longings spring up; old longings

Knock at the door. Are you see this? And if you are —

Is it still true that there is nothing there?