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lloyd wallace




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70801


it’s time to worry / toward the future / with my dark tuba / of shame / i am a wound fountain / a thin logistics / a little selfsame rind / of peanut butter scraps / and churlishness / and a deep regard / for the wa-y sand prances / through an hourglass / for beauty’s quick / footsteps / i have made space / in my interior / for the doublesong / of day / i worship / squeamishly / the ribbons / conjugating down my throat / when i wa-tch you / ask what weird food i want / from this Missouri taco b-ell / you hate my music / i hate earwax / and the way time braids / its pistils / laying them / on my smotable / tongue / enjoy Poughkeepsie / I buy hammers / just to toss them toward the sky / and watch what birds the-y hit / not really / I’m just sitting here / rewinding/ watching the wind / take time apart / and eating cookies / made of farts /
timely wad

ether song

pizza-wads

dogmoon

*

a textured squawk / let’s capture God / and moisturize that bastard / ok

day / white terracotta / clouds?

the night / the melancholic / bread

there’s nothing else like silence

beef nuisance

*

the outer shell / of circumstances

let’s give our student loans / to me

squirrel jam / eagle jelly / kisses?

a book / made of eyelashes / bro

now watch my sorrow bellydance /

night storing daylig / in its lung

pleated lung / the breathing stick/

fled sky / the birded lips / of water

...................

floors

*

break the cycle of the / I / redeem yourself / and your depleted / gods

the briefcase / of my lust / lolol

just another dark serrated / prayer

a mouth is not / a meadowland

river of hams?

*

o / autumn lays its doubled wounds / across the misted figure / of the hillside swath / the leatherless / collusion of the senses / gathered here / as if in / nowhere / as if debriding / like the dawn / this dough / of syllables / sweaty / and securable / i lean like the night / toward myself / what else is there / to be / indebted to? / the past is burning / the future’s starless / i wake, and am caught in the branches / of myself / what sings / in me / sings in no elsewhere / ask the wan and trilobitic / moon / now watch / i’ll cut the night / with the shovel of thinking / i’ll cut off my arms / and watch them turn / like august / into words /





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