Sunday, January 18, 2015

Sound of One Hand


Sound of One Hand

Winter moonrise and a thick sheet
of Plexiglass between you and it.

A teacher scribbled your report card,
He is not particularly well grounded.

You explained: failure to keep the meat hand
above the glove as a ground ball approaches.

Giant cedars in blunter-than-thou novels,
bittersweet chocolate chips: nightmare hour.

Pure moon-color of bare rib-bone in x-rays:
the blot is a surgical staple in the sternum.

What greasy-slides so often between lucidity
and phantasmagoria...  the cold sweat of angels?






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