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let its thinker be the failure my thinker is failure and i want to teach it how to move in this world
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tonight i stitch the breeze off the bay smells of aria it is almost the season for cloaks
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which is to say the only private one sole unrevealed opaque center of his universal panopticon
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ready to receive remains built for death ready to receive the flatly desolate superficial deeply commissioned intellectual offer of suggestive actions for the hunger assassin to fall back on and become forcefull psychological damage bottled for drinkable agitation riding a back seat writing construction contesting the oncoming molten universe immersed in villagers city dwellers trembling laughing to inhale flesh and stone from long ago forgetting the horrors of holy oil infusion clocks and gritty body galleries leaving behind the mourning river's crimson fragrance smoldering from the previous unbearable fever in a posture of myself on a speeding body without hands and feet i am ready to receive the vomit of consciousness and proceed down the avenues of suggestion to become a limited option
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an owl out on the marsh by november it will be nailed through the breast to the barn
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the great man's gratitude to his best friend kings' promises whores' vows towards thee may bend flow swiftly into thee and in thee ever end
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then the page someone folded to mark her place then the page on which nothing happens the page after this page
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arcing the thin golden stream amp singing ooo-ee ooo-ee at our ruin
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absorbed now in the dream of skin on skin he whispered the profound and destined promises she'd never share
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you're to be watched by three fowl commonplace in florida even these three hearty objectionables: the blue tit the woodpecker and the swampcunt
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there is so much aqua histamine buddha bring me another slice of pineapple
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this ends in darkness amp all the stars within reach amp other constellations
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i agree to meet you at the ferry heading to a place neither of us wants to go but both just said sure i'll go
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the sun came out it was the old sun with only a few billion years left to shine
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the last line should strike like a lover's complaint you should never see it coming and you should never hear the end of it
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when i think about the fact i am not thinking about you it is a new way of thinking about you
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blowfish arranged on a saucer russian roulette angelic slivers
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ginseng cut antlers allotted in bags dogs on a spit a dutch girl winking holds a bowl of shellfish
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you can stand at the doorway quarrelling with your legs to enter or run until you turn to ash
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i want to say harder i can take it but there's no proof i can
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fish detaching from its canvas of silk or rice paper a swirl of color motion swimming away
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i want the image even when i am it or nearly it because even then i am also that other thing self-conscious burdened struggling for movement
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what do we do when we hate our bodies a good coat helps some know how to pull off a hat
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we say is another mirror a depth a conjure in which we might meet someone who says touch me
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maybe it's unfair a possum entering the argument here
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by our brutal beautiful and very pleased little dog
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thinking how different in our adversaries we are from possums
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we try love the fist of words their opening hand
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so call me if you call me mrs vogelsang
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selfish maybe but no more so than is fair in love for he of course was not a stranger to this act
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with desperate attention knowing two o'clock was something that existed now with being's stony smirk
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heat in desire while frosts of care i prove wanting my love yett surfett doe with love burne and yett freeze better in hell to bee
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the sight with nimble and delightful skill butt if hee play his gaine is our lost will yett childlike wee can nott his sports refuse
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that now noe minutes i shall see wherein i may least happy bee thy favors soe estranging
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at a distance tires lose their particularity tires become brushstrokes hills fading into sky
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pyke from his massachusetts madhouse envisioned it as a divine craft an ark impervious to torpedoes
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into berlin in boxes marked officers only on the grounds that the germans were an obedient race
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they ride the candolescent flames just smoke now into a sky full of congratulations
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in seas of grass take a good look at the deluge of that rorschach we're standing out there somewhere together
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a narrow girl sells purses made of reed dead rabbits hang by feet their red eyes dull while chickens crammed in cages peck their seed
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a vessel in juan's brain begins to bleed spreading into the fissures of his skull a narrow girl sells purses made of reed
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the madams in the district underfeed hookers they line up for a spectacle while chickens crammed in cages peck their seed
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a vendor buys his wares then smokes some weed he seldom deems police an obstacle a narrow girl sells purses made of reed
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redeemers tend the poor avoiding greed and never gesture for a miracle while chickens crammed in cages peck their seed
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we tore out onto jermyn street along which i performed a sort of shuffle one eye on the book and one on m'lady's competition-standard backside as she led us to the ritz
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she climbs up poises a knife and when the angle is right i find executives in my pants
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plunges the farmington knife honey gushes out and i find executives in my pants
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he is harmless camera'd in a muffled parliament of cantaloupe-motions for every doubt a speech
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circulates sometimes fogged and twitching in his house not wishing you could not tell exactly but wanting out
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we may not have a home to call our own but we're gonna make it
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iwe lived on a lake with muscovy ducks interior decorators flush with furniture plans the ducks thrust with the thrust of youth
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who's been trying to return to earth since creation and nearly succeeds every day
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together where legion hears the ventilator and enters the wire
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we like to think that the mind controls the body
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the body is under performing in heavy trading
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they're sexy because they're needy which degrades them
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they're content to be which degrades them and is sweet
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they want to be you but can't which is so hot
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undercurrent of an unwillingness to believe all is well in early spring beside a molten river riven by sun its loud hush and glug through leafless aspens split by a gravel bar's pulled switch
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the soil must have tasted you once it is laden with your scent
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the trees honor you in gold and blush when you pass
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i know why the desert burns with fever it was wept too long without you
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on hands and knees the ocean begs up the beach and falls at your feet
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i break a sweat the dish is still cold read my palm do what it says it's time that we get up on all fours
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and for years i believed that what went unsaid between us became empty and pure like starlight amp that it persisted
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i got it all wrong i wound up believing in words the way a scientist believes in carbon after death
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in his tremor he curses the landlord who grins from inside the rent book
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i see this wild arena where we are harnessed by alien electric shadows
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no wild zebras roam the american plain the mad dogs are running the african zebra is gone into the dust
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up from msippi i grew wailing a song with every strain
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fell from gun-powder come as the first americans came from asia
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two men using a wheelbarrow could haul out more than can thirty lazy indians working an entire day
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they die when they want to saying they are only journeying to the next village
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love and hoping that when the universe ends we never hear the splash we never hear th
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eyes are glazed red from happiness outside the clouds swelled full of snow and ice
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two leggings a ' a warrior's party the tranquil dark raven feathers a deep cold night fueled by a bonfire and beer
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sometimes colorado sometimes texas always away
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you can never tell about time either like that it is it is
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unending i wondered where they were all going where
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ocean to mountain to mesa the bundle she carries is a sacred memory a rainbow that arches from one side of the sky to the other
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who should be the sterile chimera of earth and of another place alien with a native face native with an alien face
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we brought hannah home today in afternoon sun with a crisp chill in the air on a hill overlooking the bay
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tonight i have a date to share a steamy bath with linda hogan and joy harjo and it's gonna be gooooood
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often i'd rise from my lullaby sleep and stare into the darkness of the road the long darkness empty of cars glowy from daddy's headlights and lonesome from hank williams' deep and twangy voice singing of cold nights and cheatin' hearts
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if he could he would hang on her eye socket peering inside marveling at her displays
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a raven's rib ripped from the electric socket heats the palm its rusted core bound by the apple's shaven hide
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new york city france germany we catch the scent of burning wood we are brought home
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you are a stubborn braid of wiingashk that must be relit with a dozen matches before it releases thin streamers of sweetness
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you are the love song played on a reedless flute that only spirits hear
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i burned with love in empty rooms i sternly turned knives within myself
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but nothing could kill a faith like a guillotine as heavy as light
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into the heavens flew a breathless legion of impossible crows
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i am angry with my eyes for not seeing you they smart and ache and see the snow an insistent brilliance
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red ambulance flicker curbstone wheels a gurney down the breezeway a baby crying out among the gawk-mouthed heads knifed sliced the man bleeding through the gauze and onto his belly
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it reminds me of the night when my mother and i slept in our ltd while the cops surrounded our apartment complex i remember someone standing near the yellow tape saying a had robbed the market across the street that the manager was shot twice once in the arm once in the shoulder and that the gunmen were held up in their apartment squealing threats from their window
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now when i look at her that same girl with a busted eye and lip i wonder: if when she stabbed was she stabbing the boyfriend who beat her for burning supper or was it her dad for wrenching his arm around her neck prodding a pistol at her head on that balmy night of echo and threat
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and it would purr though of course it being a house you would sit in its lap not it in yours
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and having reached the summit would like to stay there even if the stairs are withdrawn
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her head and her hands do a jive in the air you can feel it as the bus rolls on stopping at each red light in a long wheeze jerking and idling rumbling up and lurching off again
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and your libido like a father but not like mine or my sons fix it
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