we don’t have to hear you, your loose talk will compromise itself / you mention admonition, remember specificity’s a kind of wealth / you waited, abated, to land on the coast, but found rock and shrub instead / among precipitous heights and lascivious nights you still dream of baking bread / the children born of numbers may forgive you at a later date / the compromise of language for ability to relate / the shanty town’s bogging down, mired in mud, but that doesn’t mean they’ve won / if blessed with success, we’re rewarded with rest and the light of a thousand suns / you are not here
