Into the twisting | silk of | all of these | delicate things – mountains, oceans, stars – we | tie ourselves for just a | little while until | other hands come to | untie us and | our tears and | fingernails | made of the same stuff as | basalt, saltwater, helium | fall from | other eyes and | stroke against | other skin

Leaving before the end of the film, we hurried to | kiss in the lobby || In the fluxing light | of that cool feature | hundreds of eyes | flickered and shone

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from the series fleeting pixel (series of 1,000 poems, 2012–2016)

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