A photograph laid in a book with the feeling of a hand
I have forgotten the reason pages 188-89
this book instead of that book
no cars no people October afternoon
road that passes a church centuries old
squat rough stones quietly proud
whose angry congregants massacred
you can just glimpse the proud historic sign
the last of the Susquehannocks
fourteen elderly under State protection
what remained of the twenty-two
who were old people making brooms
locked in a workhouse pitifully
kept in Conestoga town
They called it reprisal for something
that happened elsewhere to murder
old mothers fathers no children left
the Paxton Boys
a quiet street in Paxtang
you sense this street
is exactly what they wanted
Peshtank
who cares who will feel you later
No words on the back
only processing notes a machine
spoke in blue ink in diagonals
no possession
no one there the trees in full throes of color
the unseen church
no possessions
the way the trees seem to own themselves
the one redeeming note of darkness
here
I have forgotten the reason pages 188-89
this book instead of that book
no cars no people October afternoon
road that passes a church centuries old
squat rough stones quietly proud
whose angry congregants massacred
you can just glimpse the proud historic sign
the last of the Susquehannocks
fourteen elderly under State protection
what remained of the twenty-two
who were old people making brooms
locked in a workhouse pitifully
kept in Conestoga town
They called it reprisal for something
that happened elsewhere to murder
old mothers fathers no children left
the Paxton Boys
a quiet street in Paxtang
you sense this street
is exactly what they wanted
Peshtank
who cares who will feel you later
No words on the back
only processing notes a machine
spoke in blue ink in diagonals
no possession
no one there the trees in full throes of color
the unseen church
no possessions
the way the trees seem to own themselves
the one redeeming note of darkness
here
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