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waves
whether the wood grain could attach itself like ocean waves without a shore or reference is not of question.
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soon it will be fall, and the soil will freeze (we are running out of time)
some licked mornings, in direct sunlight through crosshairspast the stairsof barnstoneI’d uproot the entire earth for you,one clodof soilper inchlost fromgrief, wecan dig tothe center, find our lostgaloshes the streamer’sglisten inour eyes’wake justwatch whilethe sod levelsas we kiss
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cusp
if it pulls youthe way it pulls mecan we ripthe cuspto find itspit, yank it out justto kiss it?
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reflection
the sky superimposed on glass is sepia stretchedin wavesand Iknow as the clouds commune itwill no longerexist, still Ireach my fingerstowards theillusion, calling itback to crate me as gentle dew collectsin the cracks ofmy palms
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flock
another poem from my chapbook, published through the lovely Bottlecap Press! available here: all of the light of all of our selves, all at once flockbarelegs onthe backporch beforesnow, a generousflock of birdssings in a keysugar-sweet tothe toucha clapping ofwings thatsweeps the saltfrom the sky–your handsform a bowlto collect thegifts as theycascade butthey meltat the verysight…
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lux
stalled stuck park in luxwouldn’t shift, I gave into the voidflashed lights and laughedshut off wrapped skin in rainis it used up? has it run dry?forward always up I try, I’m tryingbut stasis is a ring, once trappedyou sink, you at the base atthe center you at the endsI fray, I gleam
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hearth
the shadows play houseand vibrate in rasps as a scatter of clunks and plastic rustle, still I taste the crisp-apple air from strange rain on my tongue, as paper-patio lights whistle through water like a lens, a hearth, a ruse– I can see it now the fire in your heartgrowing legs