flicker
wax theater
mirror,
mirror cry for me
an
incantation of morality
invest
my water
salt
my bare throat
and
my will
account
for
what I hear
for the sirens,
whispers and
the requisitions
of thunder
for the daughters,
trees
sleeves
and cycles
for the magicians
and
the
clouds
for the
wind
knowing
how
to
carry thoughts
steal
every act
every part
every knife
time
pieces
hand to hand when
weight-shifting my arrivals
melt-plating my exits
in
shiny metal gifts
mark
my burials
look
past any destination
and
mark with a plaque
each
thought
that
is a different recipe
for
more
more
hoping
more
dreaming
more
sifting
more
skeletons
more
making keys
more
sorting
every
please me
we
all strive
to
reach
behind
the curtain
where
certainty
is
thirsted for
where
we wish
the
blessings be
where
we find
homes
in gourds
in
carriages and contracts
in
obligations and take backs
where
even the dog ears
of
poems and songs
yet
to be, call out
the
near edges of regard
where
our silences
are
the ghost mechanics
chancing
residence
after
residence
just
to be
part
of something
where
every stop
is
a pause
every
symptom
a
slight nod
to
waiters
to
wings
ready
for an order
to
be carried out
ready
for a soul's debt
to
be settled
ready
for the scales
to
be awash
in
movement
and
balance
once
again
ready
for stillness
to
be frenzy captured
between
blinks
ready
to hold one's self
where
eyes used to be
EJR
©
Needed music to the eyes.
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