Saturday, August 9, 2014

64 x 11 (Boxes)

What we have here: a stack of boxes.
In each box a specific number of words,
Sometimes configured loosely, as if arising from speech
Or random thought; other times stretched too taut,
The surface tension making for furrowed brows, clenched
Teeth, a certain lack of poise and clarity.
But we are all friends, if not family:
We watch out for and mirror each other.

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