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SKIN INTERIMS Bret Shepard |
1. Observe walls: percussed voices and bodies like trees. The rooms It's all they ever whisper to us. The mouth of a house reveals many things—
2. Hands to map the body— Here a valley of freckles, starved. The inability of bodies to respond to an ecology: touch betrays touch Sometimes one of us moves the other. I've seen a magnet that
3. Even left alone, the body tastes the ontology of an economy Our investment is not defined as the rain into the ground, the ground Not tongues. Not stillness of eyes.
4. The neighborhood consumed something consumed everything itself. we buried our bodies under fabric, escaping beyond yards and fences.
__ "Skin Interims" saw an early draft during a road trip I took last year. I was eating pizza and watching an episode of The Rockford Files in a Wyoming hotel, the kind where people also live full-time. The poem was then further written while taking the bus from the Marina in San Francisco to AT&T park.
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