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Reading Late Anabasis by Ishion Hutchinson

Reading Late Anabasis

by Ishion Hutchinson

  published in Connotation Press

There is nothing strictly immortal, but immortality.

            —Thomas Browne, Urn Burial


You read the ripples of their sandals

and armors dragged in dust, the anagram

of crows following them, the air


sick-riveted pitched down in night’s

large territory near a highway trucks rumble

like tankers to war, or breath moving


upon water, condensing time—night

being the sun’s drop into ashes.

You look up and see barbarians gathering,


you hear their organs and the stars

when they shouted: sea! sea! at the dark

coastline, regiment after regiment, entered.


So you pull the cord on the light, to wade

the sepia sheets, forever on the road, forever

the bonfire raging in the skull and bones. 

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