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And the Urge is Less
And the urge is less than the action. And the whom is less than the
when. Been eyeing something in a fraction, that supplants all limits,
grounds all pilots, preens, pretends.
A cross between a slave and a subject. Your roar, what I grew an ear
for--tremor and debit--and sang gigantic--
and samewise was an infant, and an ingot, and a rend. Famishing, this
aperture evening--in the loveless lavish of your scheming, incremental.
As I was saying, nice hat, nice head--a riot heart. A gamin dracula and
so much to swindle--the parched, anemic stars, the moon's liquidations.
Into this wreck, our valence, our spectral bed--me, you, the astral offal--
savoring our lunar liquor, the way we do.
--Karen Volkman
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