• Vol. 09
  • Chapter 04
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You are a sunlight simmering
on dust-worn leaves waiting for
a rain lost behind flat long skies
on dry patches silence shrined

barely buried in a rumpled dress
by implication the fate of a word
is to be obsolete afterwards but
its echo survives in big rooms

beeping monitors controlled
monsters defanged creatures
claim your body leaving out
fingers on black keyboards

palpitating nights in driveways
edges of roads histories refuse to
live same as files once corrupted
do not open and make you a clown

heavy with levity of details of your
private pause in a park or city’s
dead end makes you a recluse
but early morning garbage men

rattle the utopia engraved on
many cards in your wallet you
would wish to lose and confine
to a bench withering beautifully.