Untitled Poem

Found this in my Documents folder. I have no memory of writing this.

The sound of the horn and the drum
Keeps us all awake into the night.
They are praying to gods we do not understand.
But there is solace in the heat and the sand
And the breaking of bones that should have decayed
Long ago.
There is only the city, only the world;
Everything else is something to be feared or shunned.
Three angels with the heads of South American birds
Came last night to drag poor Charlie away.
What a Promised Land we’ve found.

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