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It was a slow yellow that crawled from within the filter.
I imagined myself in the eloquent city of colours.
I stood on a road without paths,
May the impossible live,
May the impossible die at a myriapod's feet
To reread silence.
It's this hand the miracle of time.
And if I can I will write your name
To shout your design across the city
That I burnt down
The burnt city
The stamens.
Could someone, anyone explain this work. I am an intelligent person but am flummoxed. If a poem speaks without saying what is it and why?