Our Single Body

the sun suddenly returns
blurts my eyes into silence and
casts specks of rainbow-dots here and
there, spots
after having been knocked in the cartoon-head
of ideas, where
this country fried-breakfast, every morning, is
so endearing and so precise in its findings, it
loses weight in the slimness of maintaining the pleasurable
media and its salon state-of-face, yet
as we are bickering over coffee and shut-downs, the lack
of our apology haunts the committee and they can
see us clear, of course
to help explain how one order of things was different than the
current order of things because of our
systematic ways of dealing with things—maybe then
they could see how our cowboys are retired and it all makes sense now, but
most likely, mirrors
as accurate as they are, still require
the viewer to take care of what they see as the noise of what they pronounce, so that
when destabilized places due to the
inaccuracy in how vocabularies are lodged in the voices of
our body, then
maybe we could meet them where they stand on the same platform we do, and end war
and admit, we’re
sorry

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