September 16, 2014

Obviously I’m tied up
Between two mirrors facing each other:
My handler—

Overlap

(Who would not burn
With the ineffectual menace of a storm outside
When he is hid?)

Everything is far away:
Those makeshift sails of thunder,
Telemetrically mine,

Have almost rescinded their ardor,
Their hand
To pry me forward, shake me

Onto other custodies,
And the enactment of a spring
Never mine…
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