Wednesday, November 17, 2010

177. Irrevocably Unbuttonable

To be given
on the first day of sunset
a sample of rain

is. Twice is
a long time
to be without

an. Alive in
diegesis tho only
a particle of

it. What and
that that remain

so. To struggle
to hold together
what can’t be shut

or. Periods of
intense sleep followed by

of. Nothing could
be changed even before it
had happened

to. Distilled to
its quintessence and
relished just

as. Any system used
to discover the limits
of whatever used to

be. Conscious but not
conscience in the sense of
paying attention to what was

in. The site of numerous
events of a clandestine and
balletic nature relying

on. To the observers
the tails of the deer were
cautionary and

if. Winds comes cold
in November and
hard through

my. A clicking of
dog’s nails across a floor
and a clock

at. Her purpose
relegated to disdain
continued to

be. Whatever it was
he thought it was
was what he could

do. The surface
of the idea of log and
the way he held the

ax. I wanted
to explain exactly how
it was that

we. Expectations
were gathered and
placed in a receptacle

by. Leafless sycamore
and an equally leafless
sky that

he. The taste of ashes
in his bowl and the
taste of what remains of

me. Bodily she
breathed beside me in
a way that told

us. All those faces
all those ears and looking

up. The art of words
as an action and as
a way to say


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