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January 10, 2017

the calculus of mannerisms
the sighing of the walls
the indifference of the floors
the ache of the ceilings
moments momentous
and otherwise

creases on the skin and
a lather of mind,
tenses poking out at all angles,
pointing at themselves
or otherwise

every missing is different
and every missing is the same
days continue to follow each other,
despite the growing disbelief that
they could

squeezing sense out of discarded sponges
that soak up minor details and otherwise –
otherwise stare at the sighing walls
and the indifferent floor

hands will reach for hands,
voices will be scattered,
sparkling with accent off multiple tongues
ink – or its evil pixel twin –
will try to divide time and life
into clots of cream or blood or
putrid spit or potent spunk
or flowing ice or glowing coals

what reminds of when
who reminds of why

are we the next contestant or elbow?
will the sky or oranges turn brown?
it is enough to ask, or too much before?

nightfall brings new challenges,
drifting like drifters,
coasting like coasters,
platting like platters

the slow tropical walks,
the quiet tropical motors
unhurry themselves,
sifting through fears and hubris
wondering if some nugget will
pull us back to earth,
a stone seeking stone,
as hands reach for hands

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