5.12.2004

writing a lot today.


HEIDI, PRACTICING ACROSS THE STREET





Spring plays slow scales, waltzes toward July.
The leaves obscure the branches, and the shade
obscures the leaves. Time’s intricate façade
a busy undergrowth that blurs the eye.


Footnotes and erasures cannot clear away
her dense disguise, your camouflage.
Only a few piano chords, a forlorn page...
we’re magnifying figures in some Book of J.

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