Tag Archives: Simon Perchik

It was a lake, used to bodies: islands…

It was a lake, used to bodies: islands with an everlasting sunset and the glare from jewelry, veils slowly drifting down as the footsteps that now weigh so much – it came here the way an icy stream enters a … Continue reading

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You can’t stop, talk…

You can’t stop, talk and far from your mouth wait for the grass as the same sound between your fingers lowering for lips – you talk the way rope takes so long to die – over and over and over … Continue reading

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This fish is still gathering the smoke…

This fish is still gathering the smoke left over from when the sea went back to face some crackling beach grass – side by side you too are warmed by salt and standing naked you can see a woman is … Continue reading

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And though this door is locked…

And though this door is locked it leans into the evenings that hollowed out the place for its marble and grass where you still hide, afraid make the dead go first – they already know what to do when the … Continue reading

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You become a shell, this time…

You become a shell, this time hardened by so many times though the dress is empty – your arm around the Earth lets nothing brush against the sleeves except the soft dirt that remembers clearing out a place for snow … Continue reading

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Inside your arm a rope…

Inside your arm a rope though the road you hide is lifted by hills – the sleeve rolled back the way all curves return as if nothing happened pull alongside, surrounded no longer airborne let you splash among the turns … Continue reading

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A simple hush and the moon…

A simple hush and the moon loses direction, smells from skid marks and nausea wants to change places end up on your shoulders the way a sobbing child uses height to forget be near where the others are and sideways, … Continue reading

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Step by step the nights…

Step by step the nights taste from weeds salted down though even shorelines decay, taking hold between the dirt and one last look as dew half marshland, half within reach where her breasts are forever water and from this darkness … Continue reading

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You stack dried newspaper…

You stack dried newspaper the way every tower keeps track where the others are – in every room as if this clutter could darken would guide you into the open growing over the usual rain and stars impossible to find … Continue reading

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This branch climbs past you…

This branch climbs past you the way a breeze spreads out warmed by roots and feathers – that’s why when you look down the fruit changes its colors sweetened with leaves and eyes that are all alike though the tree … Continue reading

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You walk past as if the first death…

You walk past as if the first death was a bird – enormous feathers half-stone, half-outworn, one by one though they still need more time could calm these dead, spread out airborne, older than the number 10 than this hillside … Continue reading

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You caress this dust as if it’s stuck…

You caress this dust as if it’s stuck drains under ripples and sap though all goodbyes keep warm in a dark lake at sunset, reek from varnish, hunted down by small stones by dying wood and from the rot and … Continue reading

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You don’t read how weak it was…

You don’t read how weak it was though this windtorn composition book steadies its lettering for afternoons the way beginners wave their arms making room for the Honor Roll mixed with stone, not yet the pages – these dead are … Continue reading

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As if a rope, half bone…

As if a rope, half-bone half pulled from your chest the way this dead branch tells you everything then closes though the wood won’t burn – so many things are made from doorways and she was left inside with nothing … Continue reading

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The glare this plate thins out…

The glare this plate thins out eats the way each star tells you it’s still alone though rim to rim you bring a rain smelling from a narrow road holding down the Earth till everything is dirt and she is … Continue reading

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Holding on to the others this hillside…

Holding on to the others this hillside knows what it is to live alone all these years falling off-center though you no longer follow still back away till your hands and the dirt once it’s empty both weigh the same … Continue reading

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Although the stove never moves…

Although the stove never moves you add on the way roots have learned to sleep where it’s warm – this kitchen is still expanding, the pots further apart with no end to it can already set your hands on fire … Continue reading

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You have to let them fall…

You have to let them fall though once the ground cools – this toaster is used to it sure each slice will climb side by side and even alone you wear a fleece-lined jacket set the timer left to right … Continue reading

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You kneel the way this sky never learned…

You kneel the way this sky never learned those chancy turns the dirt throws back as breezes, still warm, scented with what’s left from when the Earth had two centers, one blue, the other footsteps, half-random, half-gathered in for stones … Continue reading

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You bang the rim the way skies…

You bang the rim the way skies loosen and this jar at last starts to open, becomes a second sky though under the lid her shoulders wait for air, for the knock with no horizon curling up on itself as … Continue reading

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You cover one eye, upset…

You cover one eye, upset though sunlight means nothing now and against your cheek some mother strokes her child—you praise half and what’s left spends the night the way all wounds begin as a single touch then end broken apart … Continue reading

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You think it’s cramps…

You think it’s cramps though certainly this dirt resembles her voice and no one here but you pours from a bowl, sure it’s laced, opens out sickens your step by step —for a while they’re quiet washed in front her … Continue reading

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These stones still anxious, sip…

These stones still anxious, sip stuttering as if they had no surfaces or shoreline—syllable by syllable you gather them up, not sure they can bring the dead closer though this sill is already wet reaching out the way its paint … Continue reading

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The flowers leaving this page…

The flowers leaving this page open up in water are already heading back the way your shadow empties still remembers one by one icy streams crossing overhead with something more to give —you write another letter make the words embrace … Continue reading

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Just by reaching in—this sore…

Just by reaching in—this sore is heated though your arm covers it the way moonlight can’t hold on any longer lets some hillside pour over it and mornings too grow huge count the nights from so far off and each … Continue reading

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