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JEN HOFER |
of deaths, dailies, speculations, nascence (shares)
“art is climax over conduct” on the tips of her feet,
swaying to invoke
a rose, a box, not a rose, a boxy rosy color rising
to song, to anticipation, to generous crow caw, to parking
lot, paved path
risks with the irresistible light, this delirious
what other way there might be, out of a sense of duty, out
of it
a scorpion and a thumbtack on the wall
a wall and a piece of paper partitioning the between
to have time and time to be had and the timbre of the having
or wave form of being, being color, swell, sentry risen
ravished, 120,000 acres irreparably, the changes wrought by
combustion, by arduous relation
in thus the friday of my
jitterbug, i bequeath you one flaw and its
accompanying verbs
one flavor and its accompanying hue, one tone and its
color-coded accompaniment
the back-up singers to the scholarly, hips swung in time to
a droning beat
to work via models not a mold not a voice a moment
in four movements or a single motion, the structure riveted
into lament or into attention, into the hills like
proverbial wild-fire
indigestible contractual constituent parts or portions
whiling away a while not doing what i’m
told or have told
to stack, to box, to rose, to be, to be shaped or shipped,
unfit just in case
to be tardy and accepted to be uninformed, to propose a
solution
thinking’s thought form undisclosed,
twittering, positioned on the lathe, to bore into, an expanse
of deaths, days, futures, nations
at that hour that light that lights tremendously
tremendously light slant unpaid against the remains
unpaid variously by election and by omission purposeless
unpaid reminder
don’t forget to remember
human behaviors alongside human behaviors
he ran his hand and sadly
joy in the double standard, in red vinyl
supposedly things had progressed and the future was upon us
barely a slit in the tremendous sky
the waitresses doubled as matronly table dancers
the tables as stages for shadow boxers and blind necessities
the frosted glass afforded a polluted view, no need to
infect
impatiently, a pose of casual lack, a stylish stand-up
staked predators in full frontal view less demure
than dames on demerol demurring
out from under religious upbringing
accounts culled from decades previous limped into the fray
the best intentions forgotten amidst the busy tasks of the
master
bad manners, bad form, foreign currency, current affairs
baby jesus weeps fake tears of
fake blood in real compassion for what’s forgot
the doors swing saucily open, then suck shut
it’s no use being shocked, yet shocking none less than
tremendous
even the shameless think it’s a shame
unilateral world as if reproof to provide against swells
knowledge but a tender dream, teamsters welling up in it
the joy, which fled, could be measured in centimeters,
ingots or not
of deaths, dailies, speculations,
nascence (shares)
too little too late or too much too soon or “heaven
forefend”
in repetition our allegiance adept alliance
lost among the amidst, no routine in sight nor touch
must recover, must remember, must remain, incidentally
the conversation had begun in slivers, splintering
the sunset not visible from the courtyard
there was a considered pause, then the explosion
“all this could be yours”
or “don’t stop” or “hold it right there, buddy”
an image of a trout, a trout, a tree-lined street, blown
cotton
if we’re going to think, we might as well begin now
or give it up quietly on the receding broken sidewalk
broken alphabet, metal casing, torn bluejay
wing, trapped
dear madam, if only you could know how much, cognition
dear mad, if only your cheekbone against these many shades
of beige
dear m, to fold the map into ribbons or you in an unairconditioned moving vehicle
was stitched with x’s and unethnic, yet soft
unable to see the profit margin, while friendliness itself a
potential
the view marred by the bountiful name outside precision
tattoo turning fifty or feathered falsely, purchasing things
in two’s
dear, day’s variance and loose mortar notwithstanding we
learn through repetition, and to please
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