In my dream jaw my dreamboat’s jawbone
In my flood a sober seesaw
In crows a kind of waiting
meant to receive the balloons of the strangled
In a film ghosting a film, In the church of rolling our own
In mannequins where small things kneel that are living
In jigsaws of the crucifixion and in the ideas my veins
give to lightning
In Ohio in my left hand what is elsewhere lost in a broken rabbit
In the city the building thinks god will jump
In the nothing nothing leaves
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