Featured Poet- Peter Boyle

Figure in a small icon
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My royal robe is full of blue crosses.
I am looking at you as if into
an anonymous camera that has commanded me
to lay myself open – my short beard, my
clipped black hair. I have just arrived
or am about to leave, and my royalty
or sainthood or status as marked prisoner
gives me the vulnerability of one
who will be eternally fixed – precisely so.
If the earth explodes this night
and I am all that is left of humanity
any future sentient being
will judge us to have ...

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