{"id":3212,"date":"2013-11-24T13:52:35","date_gmt":"2013-11-24T13:52:35","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=3212"},"modified":"2013-12-15T22:04:26","modified_gmt":"2013-12-15T22:04:26","slug":"joes-dresner-2-poems","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=3212","title":{"rendered":"Two Poems"},"content":{"rendered":"

<\/a>
\n2d6<\/b><\/p>\n

We followed the train of thought through to its termination. It was a mistake we wouldn\u2019t make soon, but would eventually, again and again. The populations shiver and sit, mysteryless, like commoners knighted on the eve of a battle suddenly postponed or perhaps cancelled entirely, nobody knew?<\/p>\n

We hope it was once as simple as the sign on a tavern door, the bluebells, a black prince, or a swan, the huge swans gliding like silent statues on the lagoon ensconcing the crumbling citadel, and in the middle distance desert and desert and the small building, the architecture simple, but classical, perhaps a church, and inside of you ancient things, hanging in the little shop window of your heart.<\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

 <\/p>\n

<\/p>\n

the mangroves<\/b><\/p>\n

We had our common everyday names, but like plants we had other names too, which were much older.<\/p>\n

The question develops thin creases and wrinkles over time, as one\u2019s mother\u2019s eyes might do, how beautiful she once was, all fear of impropriety gone who knows where, but also the pity and self-regard that comes with pity, as we watch the coin roll for a moment before turning in a circle and coming to rest near the kerb. This, at least, is our story, it\u2019s what we\u2019re sticking to.<\/p>\n

I left the glass house with a beard. Yet I had my hatchet, my ball of twine. We emerge and are assaulted by the venal administrators who seek to restrict, or at least define, our prerogative but their words turn back against them as the hull of a ship turns a wave back into the sea.<\/p>\n

We have been busy throughout all the nations and deep into the night. But you are very nearly there. The wedding will take place in the mangroves.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

2d6 We followed the train of thought through to its termination. It was a mistake we wouldn\u2019t make soon, but would eventually, again and again. The populations shiver and sit, mysteryless, like commoners knighted on the eve of a battle suddenly postponed or perhaps cancelled entirely, nobody knew? We hope it was once as simple […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":81,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"jetpack_post_was_ever_published":false,"jetpack_publicize_message":"","jetpack_is_tweetstorm":false,"jetpack_publicize_feature_enabled":true,"jetpack_social_post_already_shared":true,"jetpack_social_options":[]},"categories":[298,299],"tags":[],"jetpack_publicize_connections":[],"yoast_head":"\nTwo Poems - The Manchester Review<\/title>\n<meta name=\"robots\" content=\"index, follow, max-snippet:-1, max-image-preview:large, max-video-preview:-1\" \/>\n<link rel=\"canonical\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=3212\" \/>\n<link rel=\"next\" href=\"http:\/\/www.themanchesterreview.co.uk\/?p=3212&page=2\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:locale\" content=\"en_US\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:type\" content=\"article\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:title\" content=\"Two Poems - The Manchester Review\" \/>\n<meta property=\"og:description\" content=\"2d6 We followed the train of thought through to its termination. 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