Leads | to that

Like a slender | snail’s horn | caressing the air with | looking | Upheld | probing | The sky’s | emptiness | A slight | breeze turns | the corner of a | page | all the words | run like | a fast stream | the light | is a blur | the days | are a blur | your life | is a blur || Seeing | attracts the | heavens | to a | particular point | where she | rests | her back | against the wall, sunglasses | straw hat | summer | skull-print dress | languidly | fanning herself | with a guidebook, and nearly | all of her thoughts | forgotten || Rushing | to protect the skin | the | fragment | cannot | remain | a fragment | or so | the poem | insists || Xanadu | knocked aside | stoven | in | that faint | hum you can’t | quite hear | is the sound | of these words | calling | to the others | and the other words | beginning | to move

 


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

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