hurt hurts as well stare at the sunset
that arched the horizon of your twenties:
star punch, telephone cables, shipyards
dead and all debris as
misshapen teeth scattered around the rooms in your mind.
The early poems were unable to stop time. On paper
hanged empty metaphors, and each verse
lit
each face hidden on the far side of the ink seemed to come
silent vibration of an incubator. You said you would
to search for life elsewhere
and death. ____________________
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