The Burning of Paper
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empty prolapsed uterus in persistent state incessant shivering devastation negotiated navigation in narcotic conscientious empty prolapsed life. golden contours beneath knowing palms of craving entering, not leaving maddening not sanctifying losing so bifurcating yes and I can’t no and I must maybe and I need fingers sliding tongues contouring avoiding protruding empty prolapsed unisons

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Here is a poem to keep forgetting:

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1. Woke to mid-day Dublin Woke to find she was still dead The day’s plan remained unchanged: Could I find her in the city of Joyce? The first bookstore had what I wanted before I knew I was looking for it most especially. The Norton Edition. Half my life now, some version of this has [...]

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radio voices announcing halting sounds the supposedly comforting sounds of home are only a symphony of absence a cacophony of incessant abeyance a collection of painful staccatos radio voices announcing halting sounds increasingly familiar: the pain was unacceptable yesterday today it is the comfort of home.

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the voice says don’t write this poem anymore it’s sad they’re always so goddamn sad

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here is a house, I made it for you it is very inefficient and there are no safeties hope you don’t mind I have to borrow something your inheritance: it’s a permanent loan there was a hurricane now the house comes in the many pieces variety along with your children and we are sad for [...]

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some thoughts about knowledge of people forgotten who have a status and some photos this is what passes for friendship apologies said but not kept or apologies needed but for fear of asking

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People like us ask questions The questions have structures The structures have meanings The meanings belie feelings Ask this: Why did that happen? You want to know that: What happens if I miss? Other questions that I have had You may never have if you do not test well: Is this what rich women feel [...]

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1. “I like being loved by you.” What the Lord giveth, the Lord taketh away. Dani desperately desiring leads to remorse while she is lying on the sidewalk. 2. Dani is now up and about. She can’t remember a before for this place, although surely it has one. Wasn’t there a before before this after? [...]

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but we left it there: left foot ahead of right foot one must be trained to go this way run do not walk from the pain of getting a little too close knowing a little too much discovering the imperfections the jagged edges at first look like art but they are just knives: just knives.