Greg Scott Brown Lazarus Laments Who knew raising the dead would be such work? So dry everywhere so sucked dry, so pushed to the edge of meaning, so collared into the husks of their skins, from which we judge our own. They straddle a gutter of stars redundant, alone. I have no way to carry them. They are precisely more or less this weight this bag of stones that pulls beneath the surface— one great, bright, everlasting gasp between birth and the hour unknown.

"Pearl," Merlin Flower

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