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in today's mind gripping episode wishing wells and rendezvous gusto and the waning moon



-On the Porch-
a peeling bow into a clear and humid night remembrances of the reefs around gulfstream islands phosphorescence racing in and out with the night tides across dunes to the sea to dunes past the horizon the sound and the smell of the crusted anchors at dockside the mackerels running into plastic buckets on their way home all on a porch in a landlocked city in the northeast all on the porch where we sat and stared at our hands

_Saints in Sacks_
being a nun might be fun you get to heaven when you're done

-Do the Do-
dervish in the spinning of silk sweat pours on mahogany like moonstones like dew spicewoods that burn slow and smoky the wine like the winter sun dervish with a cloud at his feet jangling jewelry of copper of silver about a disjoint neck fingers swim to cast a charm the music pitched high to cease the wool and silk blow the candles dark

-Straight Lines-
what happened next caused speculation thrown down the well of reproachment the idiot laughed from the echoing hole wishing well to the highway's beggars -------- waves song of ancestry lost in dusty records out of order wind listened before water landing on a shore beneath my feet ------- the water whistled through the trees the wind upon the rocky shore

-The Women_
playing card expressions with walks that do not swing from side to side legs of thin trees smooth as young elms in the young wood spruce fills my lungs like water heavy and cool as death skin of pink marble clothed in a coat of broken seashells in a black gothic church warm marble hands are laid upon my face

-A Short Report-
guilty was the plea he was down on bended knee

-Saved For A Rainy Day-
to grow old in the old way cold and bloodless as a fish with a fish cold eye and a fish cold heart the rain like tears though not salty hair like cold and stringy ferns shirts are torn like hearts from the thorns of the badly chosen path a boney back pressed against rough bark in a rainy forest the damp and chilly way to dash to the old home for safety to dash for the old home for warmth to dash to the light to grow old in the old way far from the thorns, the ferns and the fish cold heart

-Is It Dangerous?-
crawling along at curbside with eyes as bloody as rubies taxi cabs darting like small animals busses fart in your face my home is crumbling quickly the pigeons are mechanical dust devils of spring trash a sun that winks on and off like a neon sign is it dangerous as the prophets say the apocalypse might happen and nobody might notice

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