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This poem is taken from PN Review 116, Volume 23 Number 6, July - August 1997.

Slip Conor O'Callaghan

and to know how to be Nobody, like Ulysses, perhaps one needs the sea
     Claudio Magris


A path that holds
a thousand barnacles
and no definite end,

that's slowed at in passing,
even stopped at with
an hour or so to kill.

One of a handful
of dispersed survivors
from the Napoleonic wars,

touched up with cement
and with numbers frayed
to flecks of yellow paint.

A jaunt after dinner
is drawn to the blade
...


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