Karen Garthe
Victorian Reading
puddles were and birds
in their rain places, touring tight jackets of little pugilists,
the pacifist emaciated sage/Bronze
if I can get there, I’ll have to pay the barriers
their rain and leeward repeats chin the willies and sift
the image monument
fanning preservations
fugitives whose resumes come last
the summerland/ to be
the live intervention not the phantom
deep green of its coining
breath off the pond walls
the grass her Tendrils,
Her Houses ravine and upright stick
the austrian’s poor secular religion, low henhouse
scaffolding cake of a building it arches and roams
the hand at the window Professing
glass, solid charade
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