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Francesco De Angelis’s / [Poetics Post Mortem]

11:9

ALL’UNA——ANU’LLA
HEAR, LIES, TRUTH, HERE
THEIR, TRUTH, LIES, THERE

As all falls toward the center of the circle
Life meets with quiet hands the center
Centrifuged circumlocution fires the synapse
Carcere, o’ carcere, my dear petty countrymen.

O
C   arcere  O;
O

"Fields of Fancy Fetter Loons Play Music By The Sea;
Masked Trumpeters And Candycoons, Surreptitiously;
Fight Founders, Fellers, Felix Fawns, Fight Vessels Merrily;
Sight Soundly, Simon, Siamese Pawns, Beneath A Timber Tree."

Babel.
13,13,14,14
‘Si sedes non is’