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ULYSSES IN DECLINE
So, we traveled
their ears stuffed with bees wax
against the Siren song
and every time I strained against
my ropes they tied me
more securely
to the mast
they heard only
their own heartbeat
but I heard
things which can't be repeated
to anyone before
or after the passage
being all and only
the smallest part of this narrative
the smallest part of this narrative
took nine years
from beginning
to end
all of it a siren song
in my autumn ears
hair crisp as
dry leaves
sounds different now
than the tale I told
less clear
I was not one of them
and can't really know
what they saw
or felt no one
who manned the oars
ears stuffed with
beeswax survived
to tell me
Paul Pines
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