Dave Brinks: the caveat onus ::: sixty-six

Spring '07 TOC

I  was  in  my  head  with  sand  preparing
for  the  storm  se  soulever
casting  shadow  puppets  on  the  wall
jagged  instants  shaped  now  to  flood  proportions
expended  motionless
the  faucet  drips  to  a  destination
no  one  wants  to  hear
with  a  word
I  start  with  a  line
to  be  stared  at
coming  up  from  the  floor
where  it  finds  you
wondering  what  can  account  for  that  sound

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