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Old Typewriter

Published Poems

Featured Poems





Sudden line of sunlight lifts spaciousness, of a wall, expanding,       

revealing the corner to a bookshelf: The spine of an anthology,

“Burnt Tongues” sticks out bulbously,       


and invisible ideas are suggested on the tips; An impression of a universe off of a spec,


but never can we read a closed book:     


compression of pages implying an entirety at once,

next to other instantly implied entireties. Open the cover, 


and there’s a slow decompression;    

an impression gradually proven/disproven; a spec 


to a universe, then closed; a compression of pages

recalls its decompression


            when we look upon a book we’ve already read.


Turn away to write this,

and turn back,



condensation of a sight





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