16 forms in the square


think like the thwacking, a line of mist

taken sky

add roots to the groan

if the river is followed, a way for the water to turn

backs the flight up – we see the remains

of asunder war – teeth sprout from the dull gums of the land

and a question for general Lee to remain so questionable

how could the people fold paperlike into their holes

masses of record do not retain their groove-cut sound

the static churning in each rotation

sikorsky plant clocks a buzzing and my father cuts

his timeless way back to the line – one memorizes

embodied motions from inside the movement

take the cover from off the bridge we are crossing

each turn of the wheel is the distress from here to where

blades are just grass and grain not knifed in hand

not a cord of rope sanded to the ground

flint in rotation to sharpen the lit things caught up in the air


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