Untitled (Rayograph)


The trouble's not finding
the key in the dark
but rather where's the lock?

The midnight library
is a whisper of pages;
a hand reaches

a revenant
towards the misty forms
the braided ghosts

that never rose up
from their pages;
you try spending eternity

all alone in a book
that you wrote.
Enlarger flash pompeiis

it all for posterity.  When I
say cheese,  I mean
we all stand alone: the cloak,

the naked bone.  What stirs
among the stacks
is nothing but memory.

I wish this weren't so.
Were that we
solid, raw

& bloody rather than
has-been vapors
lonely

& exposed.




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