notes around the block or “every end is probably a rose”
in the right circumstances

old critical column of stone

shy of
saying and sayings, stoops to

the clever
when anything dissolves memory

setting aside
this bright horizon, I’m on

an innocuous
precipice, existential and devout

I do
love greens, and naked blues tell me

this is
what God’s kind of about today, but I

am unformed
in a static, doubtful & credulous gaze

no matter
since the heroic catalogue’s expiration

I opt
for intransigent confusion, I can’t

unroll this
last piece of what he’s supposed to do

with all
this vacancy, with all this open sea

he’s only
been good for matching busy with busy

gull with
gull, castoff doll with new companion

his bright
armoire is stuffed with angelic eyes

‘be this
without your body old traveler’ look

the edge
between two clouds conjures tense arcs

of what
can’t be agreed upon, the cold or heat

of our
constricted age, of remarkable machines

holds up
the wriggling sky, holds up the coach of meat

holds up
our stateless mumbling for awhile

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