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99 Two Poems Artist sometimes my feet just walk beneath me like a dog on their own I don’t need to be along anymore when I walk I am somewhere in a painting somewhere -- you know walking some lonely kind of line. I heard a metallic distance like two worlds were thinking a renaissance of ring sound and beating. I heard a metallic distance beating for its own meaning shaping itself in a hot fire |
100 I hear myself in a crevice thin and pressed in death a certain alloy now of experience about to be joined with rust. I see myself the flattest of all awareness thin and necessary a representative mass of nothing; cooperative rubble Painter I don’t want to see too much so that I talk more than I see I just want to see enough to keep my eyes open to enough stuff to walk to keep seeing before no more light comes. |
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