It is a
convenient flag
'Language'
Well we'll all
arrive someday
The poem in a voice that's not quite mine
And as to what gave rise its
random flight
'the poet's arrival in the city'
Steps becoming substance,
words this
Wretched afflatus!
Who did his best with the
Intractable substance
It glistens inside —
Ambiguous shape-shifting country
As every honest citizen avers
In some desert and
here is its language