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Paradise

By (June 1, 2016) No Comment

I say no
way no
thought for
you, seed,
loosely flowering
comb.
Sol’s lost,
I
get out,
Herr Lind-
worm adjusts
his cummerbund.
Such
trash on
the horizon
building
flipping
saying
you’re so
alone. Had
a Child of
the Sun on
the phone
and she drank
that sunny
lacquer down.
The sun’s
baleen smiles,
and the sky’s
woofers stitch
themselves
back into
the sea’s
cheeks.
The dying
is red champagne
in spotless flutes.
I’m finding out
more and more
about you,
dog gums and
cherry trees,
crack rocks.
You died.
You’ve got
some shit
to do.
You don’t
yet see
that you’ve
been having
some
slender
birth-
day days
ever since
you said
never again.

____
Robert Fernandez is the author, most recently, of Scarecrow (Wesleyan) and cotranslator of Azure, poems by Stéphane Mallarmé.

 

Mos

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