Soliloquy for Macbeth
Blue pig basking in
the sun it brought to mind.
See lapis is at work
thought mixed with mud,
horses not yet through the gate.
Any moment might be a different
gate. Game. Origami on its way
out of our hands. The swan
that dares to actually fly away
from the secretly missing blueprints
for body’s careful analogy.
Heccats false measures ride
the palace in which the Image lives
disguised as a palace. Clavis.
Dagger. The Handle toward my Hand.
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