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This poem is taken from PN Review 196, Volume 37 Number 2, November - December 2010.

The Sand Orchestra Robert Minhinnick

We keep looking
but Ulysses has not returned.

Maybe he’ll arrive
driving an electric car,

maybe she’s the crackhead
at the corner,

sand-coloured highlights
in her hair.

But why is it up to me
to carry the carnival?

The glitter’s too heavy.
All this tinsel.

Yet listen…

Those muffled drums…
That velvet pedal on the bass drum…
Yes, sand behind means sand ahead.

When I was in the peace movement
we thought the monstrous white carbide star
...


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