out of beowulf with seem
striped in neat typographic
casts, some printer placing
piece by piece, blocks of
poem and wondering what
monk mashed together this
song and story and made it
full of God and giftgiving and
why grendel, and his mother
and noise filled with pain for
the soft ears of some lonely
native all piled together to make
a diptych story tracking in parted
stanzas on a printed page the
creep from old gods to new
and through what door was
the break-in, and by who
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