Everyone I ever loved is standing on a platform with a gun. In the cartoon version, a flag pops with the word 'bang.' In the soap opera version, my face turns the color of merlot. In the haiku version, metal gleams in the narrow shadow. In the Republican version, two guns wrap themselves in a single
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Song for Future Books
The book is made of glass and I look through it and see more books. Many glass books. Is someone speaking? A muffled voice is telling me to make soup which I think means I am loved. What other kind of cup fills itself? Can there be a cup of cup? A cup of itself? Outside a black squirrel has wiggled to the end of a very skinny branch. When the squirrel breathes the whole tree shakes, as if the squirrel were the soul of the tree. Have you ever felt like such a tree? Not sayin’ I have.