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October 2016
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December 2016

November 2016

one or two places

people here
are not old
they wear
tense clothes and
sprint uphill
with dog/baby

the clothes
the clothing is
black or
grey thin thin
the people
the clothing here

our house
is held by
color skinny
but not unattractive
not in
winter this light

congeals and
startles its legendary
as a reasonable
responsible pose
in proper scale

no one thing

Having looked not enough at what the sad world presents

and tempted to turn to this less useful book of words,

he says Sand and River and names the kinds of them all

voices voices he calls them Voices calling numbers in

his sleep. A sliver of rippling sirens strewn with dog.

The heartache of an empire misunderstood over against

a risible scrim of noodles and hats, swastika languors,

paper burnt after kind poems departed. Some to the sun.

no conquest but

an orderly exit from the place

takes standing to a wicked extreme

anyone coming from out the hard choices

deserves a red gallop a flame

just up the hill now ready to make

a flower inhale any one of us enough

to refute an utter uselessness

the time it took to crush a broken reed