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Wednesday, January 25, 2012


the animals i've trapped
have all become my teachers
till I lay puppets
over an impersonal interface
like the god of this world
who sets every sort
a play at the wind

all angles hereafter
are adorned as angels

Zoar Magog torsos
webs of rage, stratgies
rage at the red rose
that immanitized
a transcendental sign
which signified itself
in the act of signifying

mythic beasts
phantoms split in two
Mirror Set who began to nothing himself
with Occam's razor
all our loves
spread like butter
come to life
in the underbelly
of the shapes of names

leaving shame dismayed for seven days
I am a harlot because once I was clean

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