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Dismantled Figures
I let myself transport through the boats sluggish glide
The equanimity interrupted by an abrupt hammering,
hand in hand.
The birds eager and aggressive chirps
puncture the aura with their sharp shock.
I notice the green
dismantling itself,
as it jumps
from the irony of vibrant steps
upon a scruffy shack
The forgotten aspect of its nature reminding me
of how your eyes unravelled
when you took a step back.
A forgotten swingset let itself
break down, surrender
to the lack of infancy around it.
I grappled with the abandon.
Spanish moss clinging to the surface,
a very demanding host
yielding to its tenant.
The paradoxical pulp on concrete
bubbles
and rots.
Boiling under
an opaque sun.
Lingering autumn
hanging from a bottle brush tree
as we hung from our own bottles
cursing the moon
immersing itself into the infinite canal.
Above all constant contradiction,
inconsistency.
Beauty can,
will,
must emerge
from the dismantled figures.
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