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Jane Joritz-Nakagawa


at this juncture I intended to invade my privacy

like yeast overgrowth

 death is increasingly formal

   I was not aiming for the horse

poetry declared dead again

   on stilts, it may yet rain

 defect pinned to each page    elaborate possibilities in

restless and circular

 ashes of exile and wind beneath

   it’s a tiny concern

the way her hair unleashed doubt

   on suspended water

sentimental corridors, your silent heart

smaller than ever   I turn to snow with a flourish

 sounds leave bruises

   as sightless myths swim

elements of accident

   in invisible / hidden / elliptic parameters

 of non-observable reality

   geometry of hidden spaces

     uncertainty principles have somewhat

 tempered optimistic conclusions

   to warrant lengthy letters more

    apparent than real   shrouded in strict secrecy

 tardive dyskinesia   and taxing responsibility

   endowed chairs at top universities

 of an intangible variety

      dawn   increasingly formal

factory doors

      ringing bells in a corridor

            speaking to song and

hammering a shadow

Jane Joritz-Nakagawa

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