THIS PIECE APPEARS IN THE HIGH/LOW ISSUE OF THE LARB QUARTERLY JOURNAL, NO.29.
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A Debt
The bank is empty.
A cluster of birds live there.
The birds are all gold,
but they can fly like dollars.
They are lawless birds
glorified by all our poems.
If you look closely
at the ones in the corner,
some of them have human lips.
What Is Modern
Mass graves are modern.
I caught up with the future,
the metal trees are silent
as they wait for us.
The future isn’t modern.
It worries it won’t arrive.
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