If the image is itself a thing do we figure
sound in after. Push what was touched
into sentences. Walking the cliff beauty
and fear as plummeting and dusk. Birds blur,
 
this should have had the texture of whisper
my lips close to your ear what are we if not
a weather system. Piano against window.
Reflective chamber. Mirrors rhythm
 
globes of light ebbed out in mist. Shots cut
into action, reaction, interaction, a close-up
of someone speaking to mean not breath but
communication, papery, like the poppy

 gull cries damp under chords. The ribs
and spine display as white the lungs
as dark we interpret this as moths pressing
at the mouth. How to express the mechanism:
 
a circle rotates inside another circle, compass
in the sun, wheel in your eye. But the sound cuts
out as if the image belonged somewhere else.
Wind catching a wave carries your voice away
 
again her lips close to his ear, elegy and
thunder bloomed at the same time. Synco-
pation. The eye of a passer-by catches
the light. Resonant chamber trace.




 

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