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from THE YEAR OF HORRIBLE FEATHERS

I ate a lyric.

The song tasted blue / bluebird / blue.

I swallowed a mirror.  What I saw in the glass
             cage / the opposition of glass.

Here, board the staircase at one end.  A lot of this crinkles.

What is.

Often the way around a body of water is–the human

body,

             an approximation of percentage

of water.  I’ll be

sad in my cells if I want to eat if I want to.

The lyric burbled inside me.

Reflections on glass / holes punched in flat aspect / random
             docility.

Oh moment.  Oh patch of light.

[ That lyric–trembling, emotional. ]

[ Like an argument.  About our own temperature. ]

[ Or, the cadence of wheels–how they slip across the vale
             of the mystery of the revolution of each spoke. ]

Even the milk takes on a bluish tint.

[ White / blue. ]

Or, to say, that was the beginning of last year–I dismantled
             permanence.

Which meant letting you leave through the stiles, the lintels,
             the heavy oak of the door’s front end.

Love drives us all at unseen primal levels but gets
             funnier each day.  Baby,

time’s a disaster.

That is why I bought the eye cream.

Posted 12/13/13
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