go and ride a thousand days,
my clear-eyed messengers,
scour all points of the compass
and find me a glimpse of iridescence

for shining guidance into the unknown
on the day that I die

azerbaijan noon

erratic echoes
of a swallow's cries
faint and shrill,
lost midget amid
the persian blue vault
of turquoise and gentian tiles,
pool of cool noon,
in iridescent samarkand.

the first shy note strikes the oud


and so I'm finally an orphan.

all your deaths
have scarred my soul:
I've grown numb
to my own death
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