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September 28, 2012

There’s a knocking  on the inside
a staccato code
through the gristle and veins
a faint drumming barely visible on the skin
if you are an inch away, and animal-wary
you’ll see -it is like
a shiver on water, between  the left and right periods
of each nipple

and this
drumming,   barely audible
drums  through the wooden floors, the drywall painted over with
multiple hues, hung with framed  glass and  assorted hooks
runs through the balustrade of the staircase
down the front door
and secretly greets with each turning of the knob

To the ones who can hear
next door, across the wet spiked lawns
or in a far city staring at the moon
there is an answer muffled in the  foundations
vibrates  through the cables strung  between poles
running through the wire,  humming
and presumptuous
I am aware
of the tremors in the sod and the rocks
entangled in the roots, the capillaries of the earth
my  dear   you
are breathing in
and breathing out.




( some recent drawings)

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