It was a warm September evening.

We severally expressed our century.

Because of the corporal largesse of the century we wept.

Our freedom frightened the city.

We used to marvel and at the same time to grieve.

Other qualities rested like a skin over the surface of copiousness.

Still others flickered like a skin as on a living mirror.

Inside the texture of taxonomy we saw sensations.

Our emotion felt like a bundle tightly bound.
 
 
 

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Lisa Robertson
 
 

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