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4:30 Lakeshore Limited Was in the Past


repeatedly, being strong
long ago
we started to move

to stifle that impulse
next to take care of:
full sacs
of glands inside the sack
the poetry you’re writing

is not exactly exciting
declension of rattlesnake.

Instruction in passion—no bundling
no cheap diorama
batteries
potato chips
many other items
full weight of majority

the view is to the left
straggler, disallowed
and after a while
my neck starts in on hurting.
Calamity had a special
reason: Come inside my warm

and friendly life, the other
one I haven’t shown
you with meditations in it
on the position of loved ones.
On the bed, usually, on the couch
expectantly. I derive
how to expect
from your mountain
of goodness.

It’s been so long
since I was weak and wrote
to tell you so.
And in that time
da dum da dum
you never need to know.
Wanderlust consecrated,

a diamond-dragon
in registers of “What is fierce?
What is holy. ”
Look at the shining river
uncovered
by cloud, by sky, non-vegetable
education. Could I grow to be

a train conductor?
Harmonious
in little ways, not the ways
I have been shown
automatically, my neighbor
humming like a tuning fork
rectitudinally
program of grace
I’ve got it all over her
eyelids, like hoods they are
but she lifts them.
It worked out
in the end,
the sky achieving height above
the window.

Imagine that I drink a can of beer
every day at four o’clock
and watch the sun get a little
low. That’s the lyric.

I know how I get.
That impulse.

 

—Rebecca Wolff



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