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Poetry

Still Life With Columns

For Diane Lewis WALK UPRIGHT   COUNT TO TENDRAW A LINE       GO TO SLEEPSyllabus atop a stoolUnwilling memento mori. Yorick’s skull just now set down(Like your hand once weighed ideas)Warm erasers, smeared and darkWith residue of angel’s wings Wood and steel and acetoneBloodless, in the backgroundNothing breathing, nothing cold,Smoke escapes beyond the […]