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Monday, September 2, 2013


Pilots, too old
to fly, transport

walnuts. Proportion
butter, stone ground
flour, a plump

sound of unzip. A smile’s width,
a clipped finger nail
circles the drain. Minimal

moon dancing in
a shallow bowl, stirred so.


Aspen groves
groom. Citrus
pyramid insomnia.

The wife’s one
private dream, the jaunting key
delivers her dairy aisle.


Husband: snowy midriff
Chiffon:  fine, and open.

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