A Brutal Admiration
What indulgences I’ve lavished —— these poems,
these hands —— selfish as a microscope’s
revelations. Little grief, little man, little
conjure. Find me a beauty as lovely
as prey. Find me a photograph
of night, surge, regret. I wish
for unseemly rest: the going
down into earth, the rising up
into weeds. Find me a miracle & call it
miracle. Let’s squander twice what normal
men can. Let’s shatter
the furniture & dance where there’s space
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