Antipasta

The murk forms from nostalgia,
Wild distance relatives thrive
From the underpinnings and miscalculations
Of a reverent misanthropy.

The sculpture of you
Behind glass,
In all its splendor,
Is not arrayed as one
Little word you’ve spoken.

For your synergies
Of deconstructed thought,
A broken synthesis
Of sound and light,

Perceives the tokens
And reunification
Of a boundary problem
Without resolution.

Makeshift fantasies of you.

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