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for one megalithic year i fixed my gaze on the smiling meniscus against the gray wall of graduated cylinder
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a truck two men one of them my son and everything i ever owned and they didn't even want to stop for lunch
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as icebergs cracked into halves as jellyfish like thoughts were passed secretly between people
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louis do you follow or do you fall they said are you short or is you tall
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on an island an open road where an animal has been crushed by something larger than itself
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it is mangled by four o'clock light soul sour-sweet intestines flattened and raked by the sun eyes still watchful savage
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he said tina your body came out floating i was born in the middle of monsoon season palm trees tearing the tin roofs
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all sins are an attempt to fill voids or rebuilding my grandfather's house with hopkins in my head as i ripped the tar and shingles off the old roof with a shovel
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grandfather worked for years him and the welder juan wagered each year on who would return first to the yucatan neither did
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he will cry without tears a broken carburetor of sobs when i speak spanish he shakes his head and reminds me he is the only mexican
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my skirt rushing north there is something round and toothless about my dolls
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laughing against a wall my hair sweeps the windowsill thighs show themselves
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ashes in mother's hair ashes on my baby brother the streets are arid driven toward fire
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if i hurry i will dance with my father before the sun sets my slippers clicking on a thin layer of rain
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how i wish i could go to that woman with her legs up and rub her feet put liniment on her legs
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for now our highest ambition was simply to bear the light of the day we had once been planning to seize
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might it have to do with the gross imports of crude oil bush will come clean on only when the tigris comes clean
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he would eftsoons get down to work reaching into its wide-open wizen while a helper clamped back its jaws
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dead brain living will little pills entangling pain with adoration of it morphine machine whose little beep
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simple aaaa from that a first letter loved to hear it ache and fill even at half breath
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look it's standard no one but a divine being or two makes perfect copy
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shed the machine must be entirely flesh to fight must be strategy instead of filling
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so many shouldering forward enjambed now cross the styx with the ease of smoke passing through a window screen
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depart the shapes of things continuing for shapes supercooled to the stillness of mortmain
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the spell is a mouth's perilous-o as they dark circle the boats in their most resplendent pliable armor
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is sometimes murderous lovelies their plotting and resolve and why not get these guys good the lechers
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miss what human is like or know any end to waters half born to from where they look up
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to o my god little fool's breath triumphant all the way under and am i not deserving
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above his pashto prayers but we know enough to leave the live feed low audio is for the analysts
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we look askew head broken floor array light array great distances life goals
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staked upon every border guardians protections have many faces
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misuse of the face as a streaming desire solution posted: get rid of all the niggers
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glory to those who their glances lowered marched in the sixties to abortion tables sparing the homeland its present stigma
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here's your mom here's your dad welcome to being their flesh and blood why do you look so sad
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here's your food here's your drink also some thoughts if you care to think welcome to everything
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here's your practically clean slate welcome to it though it's kind of late welcome at any rate
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here's your swarm and your huge beehive welcome to the place with its roughly five billion like you alive
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welcome to the phone book that stars your name digits are democracy's secret aim welcome to your claim to fame
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here's your mirror your dental gleam here's an octopus in your dream why do you try to scream
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here's your porch see the cars pass by here's your shitting dog's guilty eye welcome to its alibi
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here are your cicadas then a chickadee the bulb's dry tear in your lemon tea welcome to infinity
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here's your cemetery a well-kept glen welcome to a voice that says amen the end of the rope old man
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join your word to theirs tell him that it is we who are important
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perhaps such pleasures are denied to those who never feel obliged if there are such
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to fear no repercussions nor dodge the unkind person you bug
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round and round they go with a ribbon and garlanded flowers in hand
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but soon a scream made him arise he started and saw two eyes of flame on his pillow from whence the screaming came
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speaks back to the dead at km old men in macawis beards dyed with henna the women wearing blue jeans under black chadors
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the ak wants to tell a different truth a truth ungarbled that is so obvious no one could possibly mistake its meaning
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if you look down the cyclops-eye of the barrel what you'll see is a boy with trousers rolled above his ankles
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you'll see a mouth of bone moving in syllables that have the rapid-fire clarity of a weapon that can fire rounds a minute
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the english has the slightly too-formal sound of someone being poured through the sieve of another language
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over there's a water tower under that's the bore hole and here the body asks and asks about the role it's asked to play: no matter how it's dressed
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like a nomad like a journalist like the hyena who eats even the bones and shits bone-white scat from the calcium
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and then the boy who rolls his pantlegs up above his ankles because to let them drag along the ground is to be unclean turns right before your eyes into a skeleton
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/ the coming at km a wall of leaves spits green into the air and hangs there beautiful and repulsive
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the tv ken doll anchor keeps complaining to their corpses hey can't you get my flak jacket adjusted so it doesn't crush my collar
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the young boy with trousers rolled waits at km before them both is a door into the earth that swings back like a cellar door in the last century
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here you can let yourself go in so many ways the bomb pack strapped to your waist and detonated by pushing send on your cell phone
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learning untying the knot of yes but re writing this yes yes
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their secret language manischewitz she calls me for the sweetness manitoba for the expanse
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deer rest in snow charcoal muzzle to charcoal hoof heads slung over their shoulders like swans
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will soon cool sunset winking out in my eyes and her eyes welling in a language that once fell and rose in drifts then melted starry she said starry into my warm coat
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he'll sit through anything as in days of yore he is blooming blazing withering with his prize zinnias
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weaned on fumes and that old itinerant intonation air your woes all over again
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it was early it was a mission it wasn't the first
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the wedding is over summer is over life please explain
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this book is nearly halfway read i don't have a pill for that the doctor said
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something little pedro always wanted to do it's a cold day man is garbage
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you are trying to solve a problem you're almost certainly halfway done maybe more
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you take some salt some alum and put it into the problem its color goes from yellow to royal blue
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rabbi says: if one saves one butterfly even with long wings one butterfly that has fallen into water it may be said he has saved the whole world
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i shout to the woman with my inside voice oh well
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had been bungled sorely we withheld our opinions sat in wait we were good for a throwing
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and as always sweetly hopeful as only women can be
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the signature public the only avant-garde behind invention
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we climbed the pasture on the south crossed over and came down on the north he said a thousand
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the stranger who helps you up wants to know you who are so used to anything scribbled on a prescription blank
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just want the pain to go away you say surprised to find yourself reaching for someone else's hand
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and god grabbed the little we'd been given the little we still had and hustled on to the next dark street
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don't ask something with a lifespan how to change your life
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but mostly because they rarely spoke of or noticed or even whispered about and did not of course
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as if she was his to run no word he said could be tamed
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each flower and tree and bird as if to prove a man's pursuit of knowledge is greater than his shortcomings the limits of his vision
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i've made a joke of it this history that links us white father black daughter even as it renders us other to each other
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they lie like stones and dare not shift even asleep everyone hears in prison dwayne betts deserves more than this dry ink for his teenage years in prison
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his whole family made a barricade of their bodies at the door to room he died without the man he wanted what use is love at home or in prison
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in that high noon that holds all the freshness of the morning
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my father who wanted your business would squat down at your side and sketch you a container for it
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we speak of rebellion when the kid is a hellion and the folks are as mild as a spoon
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i believe you can build a boat i believe you can get to water i do not believe you can get the boat on water
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a quick check of the ocean or any fire is a reminder of how things seem i can't seem to see them
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will we without the boat on water always feel that we are missing something basic to the picture
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you got it roast beef on rye you want lettuce on that
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you got it no salt you want tomato
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yes tomato no lettuce
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no no pickle just tomato and mayo and pepper
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right a little pepper no pickle
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or offend luck's been no lady truth a sneaky friend
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crows crows crows crows then the slow flapaway over the hill and the dead oak is naked
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