Poetry of Issue #8        Page 63

A slow step 		а la derive 
the way lost 		how does one make maps 
Athirst for a face to drink in 
another map of coloured stone 		stony 

The prospect for a simple gesture of elegance 
inaugurating us		the seventh day 
From dictionary the entries justice		incarnate  
& you on the tornado shore  

Yet the corrupt gods 	     shaping us 	 	woe is me 
as we invented them 		overhead a roof 
The wrong solitude		so common 
as gills in the sea 		apnoeic 
The hands that drove the rivers crazy 
unused		     useless 	     today
 
					     2-4908 

Darko R. Suvin