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She calls me “Ishmael,”
the impassioned wailer of a dry, white season.
My side cracked open, life leaks read,
I am caught up on the r..
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Death’s Shoe
Death’s shoe taps at two
rapping, rapping, oh so gently
on the parquet floor.
Could she be a Degas dancer
this hard-to..
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Twinkle, twinkle little star, how I wonder what you are.
So much stardust and weight dragged through the icy tail;
dragons rising like maidenheads..
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Urgency
has slipped from my thumb
like a sliver of yellow light
from a hanging bulb,
or a jack-knife bladed
in brown clay earth,
leaving no bl..
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