Requiem
If it comes through the window the music’s bad
arrange the mirrors yourself in mind’s gristle
for a door in its serious business of making something
up a city they walk in called music
you always knew their names my shadow of shadows you
Plotinus wasn’t sure what magic is but it happens
between two people who know the same thing surrendering
their branches their trees the squirrels fly
through empty dawn its busy hands our hands
push the border they are please just read the stupid poem
the angel cried a stone a phone a bone whatever you see
you’re all that matter hyle matters now drift across the eye
that pours a bell to meet the thick light calling us awake.
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