There’s the shadow of an old
building on the wall of the building left
standing next to the lot where
garbage grows as if fed on cold.
Blink & ship contain the westward hinge
like magnets in soft padding. Soft ply granulates
the new fissures. Where just a block away
the river, regulated & stump
gnarling like the chewed elbow
can you feel this, it’s disgusting
like cavities of squeezing
and generous lumps bombing
the old torso with cream curds
and evacuations. Don’t pretend,
it suits the river more,
the snivel wall from streets of flood
and brick shaped house holes.
see there. Think how way down
the sluice of river churns the mud open
like the hollow body removed of organs
still pulses because of shape. Form
not longing or need, the wrinkled lip,
combs the even landscape. Halo a jug of missing
out of the lump left in the river.
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