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A Man of Such Exquisite Emptiness is Ground for Fine Flowers

A man who long since
emptied out the contents
of his cavity
noticed a cable hanging
from his midsection
and traced it back,
hand over hand, to his core
where he found an antique engine
running, burning blood,
black as_______,
that leaked brown smoke,
dripped from his chest,
forming a lake
on the ground.
He tore it out.

And now his lack is intricate.
It doesn’t_________, it
won’t_________, it
can’t_________, it’s

when he steps, a hollow drone,
as if the nothing in him grows
or a something made him home.
Posted 07/24/10
Title taken from a line in a James Tate poem.
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