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from Sometimes
Things Seem Very Dark—Poems for Francesca Woodman.
18.
[My House]
is what a room says, the dusty strata what holds nothing, is a placenta of that plastic. Some bad speech alit, fruit-like from the wood. Adjust in time to peer, adjust in time to summon to walk, to walk & remind as smoke, as balloon-air, as spider or leech; mote motion cease, to remind such a thing can never remain still for it. |