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Icarus in C

June 2008, no. 302

Icarus in C

June 2008, no. 302

But desire is foolish / In the face of fate. / Yet the blindest / Are sons of gods.


Flying crow-wise over Germany to Russia, we have
set down in a hangar. The children stare at us.
Our persecution is a memory. I’m curious to know,
now we fly from land to land seeking comfort,
what it takes to cure lack once and for all.
Coveting, they say, is the chief antagonist
to any blooming of the heart’s contentedness –

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