It’s not so much that the sun is setting, it’s that it’s leaning hard towards the west. It’s not so much the world is turning, it’s that the dice keep tumbling on. I go numb past certain notions, abstractions of peace and wise living, I lose touch with the loss of touch. I know the cruel of the moment by my bones and peculiars, I...
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It settles in like smoke in the locked room mystery, the inkling through the keyhole, the spillage from the barrel. It fills in like paint in a tumbler, the water diffuse to the hues. Clues of clouds and stubborn occlusions, the cowl of circulation caught about the dispensations of flesh, rimshots from every chamber of the diaspora of breath. I shift in my seat, I...
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They come along when it costs a lot. They come along like clockwork on the calendar, like the maze of days and dropped dimes, the glistening web and the hard once over. It’s the beat of the feet kicking rocks, it is the tamped dirt of the scheduled stomp, the spade called out at the worm’s cruel turn. Call crow, call clouds, call thunder, the...
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The gray shakes out from sky to skin, the reach to the rapture, the rattle to the brass. Soft from space to shape, life climbs each step as steam stripped from the atmosphere, as the boundless ladder of blood and breath. The stir of wings, the scratch of an itch, flea bit flesh fresh with open constellations. Each layer another name, every name some spill...
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Some days don’t so much fade as fold, all at once curled up on its side head tucked towards tomorrow. The horizon bright on its side, like the gaze of a thrilled child ready to dream on to day, like the beaming mischief caught in the last glint or twinkle. The dusk of old fashioned clatter and the havoc of loose mutts. The done day...
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It isn’t in how the walls are painted, or the dust and cobwebs as the light gives out and the color fades. It isn’t in the colors resonating from the shelves or the secrets buried in the stacks. The bright palette pressed into the eyes by the hard put insistence of these reckless apps, busy always a synonym for interesting, the tired crowd they won’t...
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Winter yet, the day held gray, a savored breath unbound. Winter still, the husk fogging up the mirror and the lenses. Proof by the plate, proof by the probability, proof by the fire kept alive. The cold day a slow drip, the icy earth steeping new meanings in every released breath, the lungs staggering the atmosphere. Unfurled smoke, the proud flag of the transitory trailing...
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At the dull, dwindling end of the day with the glow of a light bulb, black robes and speckled flesh. At the shrugged shoulders and crossed arms of the day, the portion given to the mark of mind and myth, the portents of the ones to come. Strewn across the subtle shifts of stars, the ashes abandoned while the fire held out, the words once...
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From the moon haloed in the early morning sky to the moods of loosed smoke and dead men’s songs, the numb skulled day has dragged along. A life lived in effigy, billowing sails and trembling scaffolding, ritual stance and signal smoke. The seething soil, the spill of color, the bitter flavor of the held tongue spells and the lined up invocations. Angels once, then the...
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The crow perches at the foothills of the firmament, still atop the teetering cypress as the day gives way to dusk. The rest goes as rote, the muscle memory rituals, untended threads strewn all about. Clouds obscure the sky, crows and motors and the abstraction of appetites fill the air, breath by breath and from wing to flight. Oh but the light is leaving! Oh...
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