A D A M   C L A Y
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FOUR POEMS

 

 

[ANTIQUE AS DARK I WISH FOR THE NORTH]

 

Antique as dark I wish for the North
but refuse to look away

                as the sudden act of ignorance
acknowledges the object I wish to ignore.

Ripen the dark. In a pan of water,
light and my face and the stars and the purpose
submerged in anatomy,
                                    a forest of tinctured blood.

Of what is it stained?

There is inspiration in this pot of rotten coffee.

With the constant curve of life, I insist
on space. A baby choking on a thimble,
a tomahawk in my side that won't hurt me much.

 

 

n e x t

 

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