That great beam of light
You can barely believe in
No big sink, just a few dishes
Always clean

Collaboration and dot gains
The most environmental of engines
Where have I seen this Eastern sky before
My century or Midwest
Today I read
(Black space swan + agoraphobia + religious knives)
Something hanging from a chain

One mother tongue + a few rooms of archives
(Bookended by a vicious national triumph)
Lands joined together in a more than readable plot
A thread becoming the least elaborate design
Three exits for those we want around
Though only in disguise

The poor begin to pay entrance
The experts are ruining things for us
Their blithe and infinitely indulgent
(Sources of bouquets)
Immemory + a lugubrious play of synonyms
Doubt and abandonment (hard-soled shoes + going home)
What we call transgression

It is really extra credit
Matter as logos
Always moving congruence along
All the cycles of the moon over a land that cries when it laughs
An invisible country to me now
Where you are
Not how



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