Monday, August 13, 2007

Straightened Nails


















do you remember the fort we built between the house and the garage
with battleship wood and straightened nails
and the hinge for the trapdoor we pilfered from the neighbors shed

we shared a cigarette you’d stolen from your older brother
and those baby rabbits my father etherized and chucked in the garbage
then stood out at the foot of our driveway in the pouring rain

do you remember when it first happened and your thoughts went haywire
and the voices started and you couldn’t remember me visiting or the fort
we built between the house and the garage with battleship wood and nails

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"Poetry is the short-circuiting of meaning between words, the impetuous regeneration of primordial myth". Bruno Schulz
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