blow into apparition roses of film
of moon and entrapment
of indispensable erasures
give me the reason to smudge looking (I am not looking through bandages)
I am young
or I am looking elsewhere sometimes
give the silence back its plunder hatch
and the music its eternal dread rumble, rumble, rumble
(a bruise traffic face knobs and such)
themselves is another thing entirely
and afternoons
soMeOne is Midnights IS penDulous is Evidence of mother AnD
bronze
[…]
find the face of shock
of televisual rhythms wracking and booted and jazz
in elemental echo panes wishing complete and circular and terminative
redact the trumpets and bass guitars
wedge a rabbit into ignorance
and quarrel as if wisdom were a button on your Bernie Sanders backpack
or visceral
or temporal
or a flower
or a monument to breath
or underlined
or an indisputable conclusion
or malignant
mumble, mumble, mumble
mumble, mumble, mumble
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