Hollow yawn my f/t/re
if yo/ co/ld find a way o/t
in
into a different tong/e
i miss me / mimesis
neither knows where it has gone
come from in a station
of the metro, in Pound’s Paris,
of here unknowing
one knows what one thinks
one knows when it will end
ro/ghly
q/estions are yawns
echoes have left
a remembering of something–
renovation is demolition.
Kelly Malone 