This poem is taken from PN Review 148, Volume 29 Number 2, November - December 2002.
Two PoemsA Voice from the Marginlands
You'll notice a permanent air of exile,
an absence of fences, frontiers, flags.
The roads are primitive, the language dated,
youngsters with ambition hurry past. It's
a landscape of campsites and bombed-out buildings
where no one can truly say they belong
but the dead and living wander freely together
...
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