the things we use to dance to

A door slams

on a drink coaster featuring

an antiquated Hollywood scene—

captions eliminated;

Virgin mad magnolias

sync up into vases

praying the sun.

“Can’t take this anymore?”

Coral centers her

omnipresent hopscotch

verbiage into weapons untimely:


(lovely lines there beautiful: an elegy.)


These are sent back neatly however

in the post,

with an executable tag

similiar to haiku

meditated on high range peak

in modest attire.


(Near 2 o’clock on the L train)

Listening to the border of the universe,

while pixelated leaves park themselves

in segmented fashion,

counter to the waves produced by machines

maximized in car commercials—

hybritized in magazines.


(a conversation overheard)

“Why don’t you just take this part

and remember forever

the times read by others in the daily;

no one has to know,

because its fixed…

and has a taste almost

similar to sugarcane.”






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