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Friday, February 20, 2015

poem || Jeff Harrison

On Retina Lane

from now on the money's
about sentences
if you think you can place
that surprise litany
around your eyes
are Americans, they're tentacled
their wishes are killing looks
blood dots graven with forgets
iron ceilings' subtexts strangle
sentences with flags American
enough for ten-day sheets
but there's only a two-dream page
you're going to be executed for
another subtext's strangle
you're locked up & it's out free
riding around in a new Ford Arcenceil
shopping for papyrus lingerie
setting lofty flags where words were wanted
writing buttons to ward off
a slave temperature on Retina Lane

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