wordsout by godfrey rust
< Poems I'd like to have written >


Let it go
by William Empson

It is this deep blankness is the real thing strange. 
     The more things happen to you the more you can't    
          tell or remember even what they were.

The contradictions cover such a range. 
     The talk would talk and go so far aslant.
          You don't want madhouse and the whole thing there.

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