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Football Helmets gleam to match the golden dome. I am a child, drums sound through our home walls. In jacket weather, breath shows. Walk |walk | walk | walk through dark oak leaves. Stored sleep meant to heal the future holds the scent of smoke beyond the city code that interferes. From the desert of adulthood, I watch this history revive the vivid truth of present tense: ". . . eight minutes to go in the first half, both tight ends on the right side . . . You just continue to run your offense." Live the call, arrive in the statistical foreground of a life, this fray, this stress test. Finadinny Sauce Humidity relapses into rain. A wall of glass shows muted sea light and cloud lasts the afternoon. Wrinkles relax out of my clothes. I walk the lobby through connections by machines on speaking terms with points across bodies of water. O venture toward clear spice lifts the taste of food amid a simplified digestion. Soft as semaphore, I think into shared minds already loved, who welcome me into a life apart from shame in being small, that half chance of survival, presumed fictitious coastline. Need Watching philodendron's independent limber, to be translated in the evening hours. Infinity resists its status as a definition. Addition vexes those who see what won't compute, yet struggle to opine on what is possible. What is possible stays equally impossible. Each feat owns context, a confluence, an audience who waited overnight to earn a pair of tickets. Nature, always in the way. Pitch Narration singles out the status of dimwitted off-key song. A foundation of bass tones glamourize specific notes to match a row of other ones. A mother will invest her calculus in fluency within the soul of any favored child, whose face finds a specific distance between this and other tones. She may connect the child to other ones, hinge on hinge, until new mastery translates to a sustained rest lasting measure after measure into darkness. Repertoire He claims to have botched relationship upon relationship, given opportunities to end what will not end itself. She reasons with her alter egomaniacal allegations, inconsolably chants evidence, as if to patch a gulf. They overreach their solo choices as though in favor of a separation angst in which they each invest apart from the commingling they signed up to have, to hold, to show, to prompt in others watching, hearing the war continue to break out, as if freely. Companion Peace Thirty-five years takes just a moment to occur and last. Being is a proclamation that knowing implies valuing. The cycle repeats itself. Chaperones leave the premises, relieved of their supposed role. Resistance might be lowered in a pinch. The cinch that bliss becomes, arrives and holds sway over instability recast as tense. The white tree bends, leaves shake their swift percussion, motioning to bird tunes, improvised, allowing selves to make adjustments to the center of the world. Photography as Innocence From my annual review: "She is a non-controversial member of my staff." Tincture of mock orange infuses one of the rooms I live in. Infrequently I picture him, at the wheel, our night drive along a Texas mountain. Relationship is infinite, when held apart from present tense. In the lobby of the prominent hotel at noon break, the sign reads, "All areas, under video surveillance." So it is, this life, a distance from my inner life, the real one. October Melody Easy leaves and feathers change with sky's deciduous complicity. Already, fathoming is punctual, and fathers push small wheels through crackling leaves. Clock punctuates experience, perhaps. Wristband averts attention from the sign. Capstone in the foreground with a wide clean square to frame the top, as if face comprised the sole place to look. Living by integers depreciates unspoken sheafs of time, the shavings, tithed. Commemorandum Yesterday, some of you noted not a word from me. Thus, broken sentences, with blanks for you. Complete at leisure. Crispness chastens maybe every node, the diamond in a flow chart. Watch yourself neglect to watch what you are doing. Surrender to the dry creek bed, Anymore, chalk on sidewalks holds apart from wind erasure. Semantics leaning toward a white dishtowel waved to signal all farm hands to rise from fields, for soup and bread. Sheila E. Murphy's most recent books include Continuations 2 (with Douglas Barbour) from the University of Alberta Press (2012) and American Ghazals (Otoliths Press, 2012). Her home is in Phoenix, Arizona, where she is Principal of Executive Advisement, LLC, a consulting firm. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Sheila_Murphy
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