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Purchase Lipitor, Stones of the house remain,
now, shake shingles
gone back to the wood
above the unquiet sea.
The island off the sound
where Malcolm Lowry
dried out his fear
and the mist from the fjord
brought it back again.
The cupboards now rotted to oblivion. There’s not a drink
in the house but
all this winter rain.
The frogs return each spring
crossing the road haphazardly
as if each season was
a new welcome to death.
Standing on the substratum of stones, Lipitor price, coupon, Lipitor from mexico, the words we speak
are only half there in
the darkness, like the windows
and doorways, buy Lipitor from mexico, Lipitor interactions, glistening.
Ode to the Eye
It comes back to you,
when the ear fails, Lipitor no prescription, Lipitor maximum dosage, worlds
bring out nothing but
shades of milk and palettes
of brown and gray.
There’s so much to
economize: sleep, Lipitor online cod, Lipitor forum,
and the pitfalls of custom.
Some come back to the I
and mistake it for sight
without sound reasoning.
The space of an ode
is like the wee hours
before the ants
cover our treats.
The Mirrors of Place
These stone might be the house
where I was born and where
I died. In-between the stones
are warm with activity, cleaning
out the mind, is Lipitor safe, Generic Lipitor, unearthing bones
of other times, satellites of mind
for the one remembering.
But eventually stones grow cold.
The house, buy cheap Lipitor no rx, Lipitor price, an infinite space
between molecules of this poor
imagination, once felt firm
and unmarked as high rocks.
But we all move, Lipitor cost, Buy generic Lipitor, circling
through solar systems, particles
in us like galaxies colliding, real brand Lipitor online,
igneous planets and errant electrons.
The moon’s half-life of an instant.
When we descend the earth
into the river of the lower hemisphere
and look up at the night sky
adrift on the raft of its own heaven
we’re amazed not to see familiar faces
in a common mythic history, tied
by ancient threads, sewn into the fabric
of selves. The quiltwork of an old family.
Instead, we see fish in a giant sea,
shifting referents and points of light,
the old shine of dead stars
we have not known until this moment.
Half the world’s wonder is built
on this eclipse, auroras, occultations,
the other half never so familiar,
always somehow more distant,
making us bigger and smaller
of a single instant.
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