Mostly We Ship Pages

What is to be inferred from the recitation:
that — all is lost.

For each meaning to be broken down,
a hyper cube of excuses.

The leaves are intact, corners sharp.

How else can we do this,
peel skin like glue from the folds?

Your last thoughts will not remain, remarkable.

Like the Araneae tabula rasa,
A memory of extinction,
where time can be
both numbers written on the hand
and the wagon wheel in the corner.

This is not the clean break
but rather a Major who sweeps the field
removing mine, steady. removing mine, steady.

A General who seeks the right kind of juxtaposition.

Brace the syntax of your heart.

I have been, in my life time,
not lonesome or lonely, handsome or handy.

I am the background of film, copper teeth.
I preach to the pissed.

Are we to never remember
the way your fingers, lazy
on the hands, spills
ink away from the line;
spared to spread, nails enclamped.

I ask of you a faith of answers,
bedevil regret into something more pleasing.

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