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The prior.

1. Edge of a thing vacant, wishing for that. Covetous of what the afternoon would bring. An errand the mind might run. Something to do after the holiday. A spree. After the holiday and all, still hungry. Worthy of news, that not tame. In the film it was evident There was nothing to tell. You could tell That. Only spillage, only excess As a form of boredom. Her breasts And tall legs all decked out, Wearing someone else's lips. His lame mouth abused by vacancy. Streets tricked out in garbage But no particular scent in the blue air. Something to do after the ride back on Friday. You could tell you were moving away From what you owned. Nobody knew What to call the next one, only That it would come and it would be the same. Same and silent, an anonymous likeness. Wanting to say this is not the same This is not the same as this. Walking across a bridge. The bridge as fictive between. Things are delivered, too many To keep safely, to follow as the hymnal Word for word. Tune sullied with disuse, Chimes bricked up. The assumptive Enclosure in need of repair. 2. Striking out into the calamity Quest without caption Here take this highly influential ingot This jacket, pearls, odd velvet thing Props left out over there Kept off -- screen at any distance Things hung from a single chain Sad stamina of the scene A common thing Not a fist not an emblem not required Financed by a steady gaze The boy's bright gaze in the bright wind His mate might come with her cats Unreliable cats on the church roof A slack wind and a catastrophic sail Ditto, said the boy, the Virgil, learning 3. If this were speech, a speech Could it elicit the X mentioned above Of which this might be the result? They were only playing. Mask without face, no real tears Under the obligatory smile. Real anything. Examples would be footsteps following the real. He drew a thread on the wall, not architecture So when we looked back only bending, shifting. Bending, shifting, usual noise, kids Yelping in twilight, tired of the sun. They are waiting to be told to come in. I said now. I said now they are waiting to be told to come in. What is it based on what pleasure What lost in what of your own making Unequal heat Seeing the next as not yet attached-- Enclosure needs repair. Boat without sail. Many tourists. Reverie of the unfinished mending itself.
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Author:Lauterbach, Ann
Publication:The American Poetry Review
Date:Jan 1, 1993
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