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Trip, stumble,

Brace weak limbed carcass 

On a fence or something

But fall anyway 

Down dancing
And g
et back up again Dancing

Like a sick man finally dying
Or an old animal with

Three good legs.

A bird in a trance

Having hit the window

My body is a family of eyes.

I wonder what you mean
When you say

I understand.

I have been dancing in bed

These past two nights
Beside you

And I danced in the bath

This morning and

I’m dancing now.

My signature move,
To remain
Motionless, a Dance of Secrecy.

Death Dance 

To the
Naked eye.

I exhale through this
Particular mouth 

For the last time

And begin

To Dance as Snow Melts
Or as Drift Wood is

And Sleeping Sea Lion snoring.
I am a person
Cold at the bus stop.

The bus,

According to the schedule,

Should be here already.

Breathe like

A Watersnake 

On the way to work.


A convenience store
A ballerina pretending to cry.

Orphans of the patriarchy

The weather in St. Petersburg 

Sings a dismal song!

Put an ear to the ground

To hear Putin


In the center of 

This poetic moment

I loosen my belt.

I imitate 

Our flower in the kitchen

A snapdragon.

I stay very still

And thereby

Shaking my hands

As if they were colder

Than they are.

Later I will type the words

Spring (Fruit Trees in Bloom)
Into a search engine

And stare at the screen

For several

Beautiful seconds.

Sagebrush of the Internet

I put the worm

In the wood.

I don’t dream often

But when I do

I dream pork rib dreams

And there are no other people

I practice all the time

There are only No things everywhere.
Posted 04/30/14
An excerpt from Ticklish Animal, a chapbook by Robert Duncan Gray. Forthcoming from Bone Tax Press 2014 // bonetax.wordpress.com
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