the following is part of a longer poem that seemed to fracture itself, so that the end seemed to sit uneasily with what had gone before it
i may work on a tail to suit the head, but in the meantime i thought i'd post up the original conclusion
The Manhattan Fantasy (excerpt)
dreams slipped 'tween cracks
sigh a mournfull moan
for the passing of the past
an irrelevant future
when you have outlived your fantasies
.
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