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PHOEBE WAYNE

Another
A tapping forest upon a land
Supposed to come to our knees, so I
Close up the windows into a story
The thousand people of this house are in
Pressing the main beam, blowing ghost freeway
Some weather’s tendency to collect us
A mad red of hawthorn berry in a
Walnut cup. Try again, porous idea:
River rose or rises to a where I
Try upon and sleep dispersed among
The glass is newer, doubled, unwaving
Against a scatter of twigs and needles
Drawn on the city’s flat. I pour down
Clay lines, hang walls with amnesia green and brown.

PHOEBE WAYNE

Outline
Too much too loud, too soft and facing page
I cross from a civic paragraph
And there’s our young friend up high
A volume of language brushing the blue air
Around his face his feathered mouth
The door closes, it’s all chimes and wet road
Sounds, close in and block-mined wood floor
And opens again to this bench holding up
The day and the people absorbing the cold
From the city, pulling endless white breath
I take hands and draw the boy
Articulated from the cloud-frame
To the murmur of brick and text clatter
We fold and unfold with the weather

PHOEBE WAYNE

Loose from the swelling scale in thin sky
Stomp across a field / Ever tiny
In the wide quiet / Split screen
Where one works, one shops, one washes
Footsteps are old news / Crisscross
A yellow ground, dark gray mass here
Dense day structure
Appearing like an edge of history
People tend themselves / Up to public
Beauty ones one by one
Invisibly amidst their clusters of stems
The flipside idea / Flutter dry
Once drawn down / One braves a vacancy
Pretending there’s no center.

PHOEBE WAYNE

Clank! The outdoors / A hooting mass of money
Passion time between the passing lanes of
Mudrows / The city hanging on to color
From apex to sidewalk, especially
Cluster edge where I gather my predusk
Attentions / The weekend works, but breaks
Apart to the 3D street any hour
Marked “meal,” bright and moving with us
But to stop among my fibers pulled tight
Across to my other side, sleeping or not
Set to a slow simmer, the sky falls on
Among us red and fluttery, bills and horns
Gripping one end of a sparkly elastic
I am so happy to see you

PHOEBE WAYNE

In this one we rolled up all the rain
Into a scarf around us 3 blocks
From home as a creature slides, attention
To all surfaces, chronic speech lost to
The beauty wood bosky fallen all
Around us we make pronouncements. Lichen!
A joke ties me through a spongy forest’s
Synapses, several years. Standing still
Dripping wet into a container
The sky blue as black an awful song
Quietly cutting rainbow into memory
I couldn’t make this an episode
So we opened the door and let ourselves
In

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