ghost words 10.28.2018 9:46 pm

another time the wind broke it
fell from the ceiling to the cellar it
called so gently but who really knows why it
or knows how it
or really even ever learned our language after a lifetime living underground in tunnels dug out with spoons and the flat side of tin-can lids how did i know she wasn’t from here but from a house up in the clouds accessed only on one tuesday a month via rope made from miles and miles of human hair and duck feathers all glued together using pine pitch and salt gathered under the full harvest moon (there’s a message in that i think ((a message of light and life))) of wandering memories caught in nets then with dipper wings they live in cages of hollowed out honey hams still left steaming in the window after the family gone out for church left for a speech hailed and hollered by a five-ton statue of a horse made from bricks and old oven parts left for spare parts (not new ones) no these are gathered up by owls out near the landfill they’re washed fourteen times in spring water and soaked like a tincture in a mixture of grain alcohol and solomon’s seal roots plucked before puberty set in (out) of the cold and wet ground beside the tombs near the buried china collection hoping to be cleansed by the dirt and maybe all them larvas down in the soil that eat other smaller bugs and of course poop

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