Persimmon, Algonquian, Nixtamalization


Nothing is Incongruous

There was a girl who would not close her eyes
The machines she made were waiting
Growling at all her things.
She did not want to miss them
As they tumbled down the bank.

She raised her fist at lovers

The pleasant mere

Well, now she breaks that stilted mechanical song

Right here.

You can go now
It’s all right

You are Outside, far from the brick walls
However fragrant with wood smoke
And glim russet shadows
The poor masonry gave the foothold
You saw right away

You left right away
Your right left aways

We know you won’t return
We stand in a line
Half scowl and half applaud
In shadow and in light
Just as you predicted.

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