This poem emerged from an old magazine on the ground, among other scattered books and pages, near an abandoned building.  Words taken directly from the photo are in italics. (To find those words in the image, start half-way down the right-hand column.) 

 

THE LAST PRINTED PAGE

 

I think it said something

     about     Mercy    and then...

    work in newspapers

      causes that matter

                         dropped

                      opportunity to leap...

Then something

       about    writing

           publishing...   books...

                             ...communicate better?

   

        remember  

      interest         

                    read... 

                                          distant     you  

                                     

           writing...  

                     spellings...

But these words were hard to read

as they seeped, pulped and faded...

      tangled up in weeds...

                    ...into the turning Earth. 

@ 2013 Linda Eve Diamond, The Beauty of Listening

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