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This poem is taken from PN Review 212, Volume 39 Number 6, July - August 2013.

from 'Reactor Red Shoes' John Kinsella and Drew Milne
Where do the old songs go
   where does the shine stain
   but parting finds a scupper
as sets the brittle into reds
   the like of which turn or fall
   or falling turn to the leftist
assimilation of litotes upon
   this brisk and humble collet
   the drill chuck for modellers
and hobbyists of enamelling
   in our Byzantine workshops
   I'll be alazon to your eiron
here's the floor, now dance
   beneath the smelter, beneath
   the tawdry moon, beneath
the we'll meet again clouds;

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