High Citrus

Wikipedia Poem, No. 810

johncontrol-2

Your rejection is both expected as worn and terrifying. I’m an editor. I always saw people like you incorrect: In conversation I reference sours again and again. You played silent tunings at the gym, or like a woman before a mirror again — silent tunes. The gym, or women before mirrors, and again the silence tuned one’s physique, your physique, our physique, you do go to the quicksilver pool, don’t you, or woman around like a fox from the mirror? And again mercury silent. Tune it twice, we did — we? — maybe. At once sour, then terrifying, green rind, ground, further ground. Your poetry, the poetry of flight and forgetfulness, the publication in the pupil makes sense of what will your poetry publish at the corneal machine? Reach down, writhe. Ends up the word is try. Lappets and scanlines. I’m an editor. I always saw people in the people.

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