[…]


Jim Behrle

from Like

1.

bend gold into a trumpet
push gold back into straw

              it’s slipping apart, not
              in a bad way.  disappoint
              circling birds.  our neighborhood
              cracks.
              cold sun sulks.
              water like shadow.
                        nap in a catapult.
                            yellow
                        warm as royalty.

              you don’t have to imagine anymore.
              red like a dream.  streets like
              walls.  mud where
              there will be thick grass.

              something that sounds like music.
              diagram of hills, the way it looked
              before we came.  smiles like hands,
                  sleep like laughter.

I want to discover America.
please, hide America.

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