Friday, August 14, 2015

heard insomnia's dream

we the after ham
uffer in our quest's
poison ants can s
peak on t ray of
thought or thought
the tabled sky de
flected in yr quiv
ering pool was
hafted words and
fro thing in the cave
ah tombs relabyrinthine
mouths the ran
dom moth laurel sp
lashed the mirror
yr gaze beginning clouds
became and turned it
off the maze becalmed
was blank “a kind of”
swarm infusion in
the statue shrouded
vines and batshit
enter the sidewalks
were wind and sand
humping a rotten
head next the weeds
the hypos french
fry bags
empty white bottles

Rustling through Ivan Argüelles'
Epilogue to Translation to Heaven


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