Burn the bacon
lights out
naming one whole
roll continued
fractions never
mind the stable
leave in a
come in never
lived to ex-
istence through
one serious
massacre "some
day. . . after you're
dead" to weigh
this and then
that fine reason
aware of its
danger what-you-
recognize erotic
force not will
standing I-think
-you is narrative
something from
shapes the awkward
is not inert I
lived among such
rocks a thing's
affinity extended
mattering thing's

water left me where I stood
trace of progress disappeared
little light noise unbarred
mutilate exchange
small doors, light as I am
and not stronger than the thing I move

Spongy foreheads carry winter
fragile twins absorb it
dawn complicates a taste for solids
pencils crossed in the bacon
nor do I wish without me
nor the least title noted
heel or toe of feel no further
unable to classify
trellis and crown
say things
and hear the sound

Norma Cole

read the author's Bio and Working Notes


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