Wednesday, October 7, 2015

What Is Hard To Avoid/scott keeney

I like goat's milk. Do you
like almonds, dust of morning,
which rhymes with guts of clocks,
meow, meow, meow?

I have studied some goodbyes
myself. In August winter,
the objective
dreams of science, the lest
we sift
of dirt—some wind in the eye.

Picture a goat’s wide oblong pupils, wise as an onion, unbroken as prose.

Wheel and handle, thumb in
the air. Oh, here is who
I am—what I wanted to say
was wordless. Here, kitty, kitty,

rub your skull against my knee.
For tomorrow will fall, the apple of us all.

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