Is there a river here? It's not nearby.
The land's been flattened out, where that's possible.
One guesses where the valley might be left.
There is no pattern to the dreary streets
uprouted around new locked building.
Much hangs where it was standing when death came.
Perhaps all these walking now arrived
later, though this morning they seem undead:
a mode of simulation, a programme to be followed,
a program without "me", a code, a fool's idea.
It is a muddle of a foreign field
the provenance of which might be unknown.
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