from: “erroreum”

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like Romeo Coates’s belief in his own thespian prowess
I’m misoverstood
sweaters have been proven to be made out of rye



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sometimes I shave sheep with a grasstrimmer, then
I shepherd the pieces together
unpredictably and steadslow
and once hid in a basket
I’m looking for the furthest cloud
microwaving the air before I breathe it
elsewhere
hold me
as you might have done
rust-colored autumnal tears
c’mon carrots, do you want to live forever?
try this makeshift milkshake        if it tastes
like paste, don’t talk to me — because you won’t be
able to
you’ll want to write the poem of forgetting

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*
(werewhale heart explodes)
no thing is supposed to be

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I’ve never been to Cleveland, but I’ve been there
we talk about someone going too far but
never about someone going too close
the Icarus of lamplighters






another person appears, astonished she is not
famous here




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the fly you resurrected by drying it off
meticulously with a paper towel
tells the wind to take the keys out of her body



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when I was a kid I thought a ghost town was a
translucent city where all ghosts came from
it’s hard living down the metaphors we are born
with
even empty space can clutter