ludic (II)

By | 1 August 2021

The game seemed a hustling object, a whatever.

Who was adjudicating? Perhaps the field.

The whole mob performance, pleading the point. Our heads were just to sit there

A carnage never free from chance. Money’s short-lived hum, a pretence.

The realm of stakes we didn’t want. Cameras, floodlights convince. The fray ever

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