Until the dark begins to lift
Hastened from door to door
Doctor she said
it's so nice to see you
This is how I loved awoke
eyes (as in) I closed my
Tattoo (pause on the stair)
Rowing a boat in another's room
faltering under the trees
What part of night was theirs
Island after island
If only edges
To share for a while
Unmoored corner my archer
Pause if you will on the stair
Until the dark to lift
Wednesday, June 30, 2004
Andrew Zawacki thinks chiasmically, or at least doublythe thing that's there or not there and the thing that interrogates the first thingin his new book, Anabranch. This is from one of the long poems or sequences that compose the book, "Albedo":
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