Alex Lemon But Being So

(read by Anthony Procopio Ross)

The veil between

Worlds is paper-

Thin—Home-

Made rooster

Coop vanished

Of chickens,

Untouched blow-

Torch whooshing

On, the bulk-bag

Of yogurt covered

Almonds smashed

To the finest

Powder—& some

Times the dead

Reach over to

Break & borrow

Our stuff, to lick

Our cheeks with

Frostbit tongues.

Each of us has

Something hidden

Beneath the layers

Of perfect lacquer

We’ve second-

Skinned our flesh

With--there is,

In us, a piece we

Can not get rid of

Or explain. No

One & everyone

Wants to be

Different, to find

Pleasure waiting

For them when

Their eyes open

In the morning.

It is perfectly

Fine if all you

Want to do is

Cry & you have

No idea why.


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