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Tuesday, July 20, 2004

Poems for Guns

.........

Have broken no thing
as abides the law of chance
the mind not wasted, the body
needs not be tinkered with for now
Once you've crisscrossed the same path
in a tireless pattern for years
the ship comes to rest
with its bow split in three or more

.........


I can no longer sleep where I once slept. Who
can? Buttons on mattresses form around and
over new shapes. And should that same bed still
exist, it waits only for the next warm body
to keep the roll.

.........

Glass-bottomed tales, lies in fact
hopefully kept in order

.........

I held a spoon to the morning light
and no damage was done
I held a plate later to the full moon
and the neighbors were wild

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