ERASER SPEAKS IN CLOCKWORK SPRINGS, LEAVES
FOOTPRINTS WHERE ONCE TURNED STEADY HANDS
AMONG THE WOVEN LEAVES
mid swallow,
my sandpaper tongue;
oo()())(()())))(()()(()()00
how everything that slithers
has retreated
to the safety of last year’s den.
and we,
an off-white,
like the volume
of stars
; read & then whispered,
like field language in the fall
PLYMOUTH ROCK (alt. remix)
an opening volley;
a dirge, usually reserved
for a burial at sea.
a kneecap drawn
into the throat
; alas, groping for thinner air.
how such turbulence
this far below
is said almost never to exist.
CRYSTAL COLORLESS GAUZE
lots of pretty radi0 [s],
everyone wondering
what it is they want.
the long,
low, white buildings—
{}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{{}
{}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}}
where there is sugar
& water
, the sea
is a perfectly idiotic idea.
________________________________________________________
built from words found in WAYAWAY, Dorothy Cork (1972)
THE BUILDING OF A RIVER
a territory
beneath the skin
; a rising motion,
a crest of swallows.
if none of these things
is an answer,
then I am afraid
I have the questions all wrong.
MOSTLY WE BECOME THE RATTLE OF MACHINERY, THE STATIC
& SEE-THROUGH SCENERY OF FURNITURE OR PASSING CARS
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