Tag Archives: Immutable Stillness

In A Hermitage of Petrified Words

In A Hermitage of Petrified Wordsby Michael DoyleLike a forest well petrifiedBy minerals filling in for lifeA poet thinks in his hermitageDreaming about things to study onThere’s an abandonment of conjunctionWhen like Chomsky, language ceases to functionWe drift like lyrics … Continue reading

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