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[Still Unfinished and Fragmentary…

]

That long time getting the jar unstuck, So the tongue could scrape around inside. Tearing into the wrapping Tugging the rope attached to some heavier thing Scrapes on the skin Hollowing out the arms and legs Making room for what’s left The curl in the wood shavings The ripple on the icicle The lemniscate arc of birds at chase Real plans to swim the channel Buoyed by being seventy percent water The rest the heart’s meat that holds us down But gulfs engulf, comets come The sun it rises on shorter mountains Everyday, people everywhere Suffering some for things and from others And still the hand drops into the hole Swallowed to the elbow Until what’s there to see and what’s not Dangle between a balanced universe There have been some changes underfoot The daily fabric and traffic We shuffle in slippers gaining static Listening to the noise of our isolation Bacon hissing in a frying pan Duplicates to perfection The crackle of a needled record

6 October 2011 Boulder, CO