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Turn

Turn out that sun
For all the good it's doing
Can't get a feel
Can't understand your face
My eyes are low
Your neck is twisting

Turn off this road
For all the distance covered
My legs won't bend
My back won't straighten
Fingers flexing
Cramping with the weight

Turn down this alley
For all the scent of roses
No periphery
Stack bricks against my ears
Scuff my shoes
Scrape up my forehead

Turn back this clock
For all the progress noted
My pencil's sharp
This book open and dusty
Breath sucked in
Shining expectation

Turn down that noise
Host of angels' voices

No place for that
Light under this heap
No one's kidding me
Aching brain unfettered


Turn inside out
Creep into the hollow
Reset my heart
Clinking vertebrae
Blink out and in
I'll take another pass

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There's another part, always,
that doesn't want to go,
a shape more practiced
than my humble sincerities,
my tilted resolutions.

I forget to relax my knees,
That I should soften my jaw,
take lessons from the glass,
from the sidelong blurs,
and oblong silhouettes;

take in the everyday words
That clatter around my body.
I should brush against these threads,
learn their girth and texture.

This is how they move,
in great thrusts, driven
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This is how they talk,
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