This poem is taken from PN Review 112, Volume 23 Number 2, November - December 1996.
High and Dry
What is it, where is it, the suburban room
High up in a house with a view of nothing
That would locate it, that I could recognize
If looking were my business now that here
Day-long into an electronic slot I slide
Conundrums from a matrix brought to me
By men who do not speak? And if they spoke,
...
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