Notes That Must ResolvePeter Jay Shippy
Those who need to know who I am know Who you are. Tulsa is not from Tulsa. Syracuse is from Liverpool. The woman Who looks is in fact a looker, but She’s unwilling to contract her dialogues To fit into your bubble. Does not Necessarily matters, now, doesn’t it? While you lie awake dreaming up vogue Scenarios, the undeniable specs Are attacking your land—check the roots— Your signatories are on fire. Everyone’s Outside with butter knives and toothbrushes Scraping ice from their cars and stoops With belt buckles and skeleton keys. Or is it evidence they’re removing? Fingerprints and reflective surfaces? Or are they leaving high signs? Last gas For 10,000 light years? Washington slept here? When they speak of you they speak of you In quotation marks within quotation marks, “This is ‘Smith.’ She likes to be called ‘Jones.’” Then coffee and pie. Then they’ll kill you dead Like that chapter with mold and bread.
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