Fig. 2.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

We summered | online kept our thumbs sore | voice clips of breathing 
deleted | as Luz stacked wood totem world of forms | absorbed spirits 
contents of Rodin’s drawer | piled plaster fragments of limbs   
for preassembly | over analyzing your messages | punctuations in the dark
the rightness of the cube is the mistress of things 
threat of exactitude | not artistic truth is
I’ve named a sin I’ve yet to live | words wood clay fire brick for stone
bitumen for mortar | tower piercing the sky | what use is a hoof to a sky 
I’ve been showing you my feathered insides | seam lines bulging out on a plinth 
increasing in height | throw language in the fire | baby clothes 
in the fire | how does it feel weight-bearing chest
rearrange all your toys| reinvention is a form of avoidance 
describe it again for me | I’m in the mood for scattering grief 

 

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