The sepulchre
The sepulchre and the white
Observing the shroud
linen have yielded me
up
Observing the summer grass
______________________
In vain were the nails driven through my
hands, and my head my
hand mocked with a
prickly
I remember
I am here after my
crucifixion and my
bloody coronation
The I remember the mockers and
[up the side of the paper] the buffeting insults
I am just as alive—

New York and San
Francisco, after two thousand
years
Again I tread the streets after
two thousand years

 

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