INSIDE THIS ISSUE:
Chris Lord
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[THE STARS HAVE FORMED THEIR EQUILIBRIUM] The stars have formed their equilibrium of imperfections and to ellipses that circle the places abroad it must be nothing that there are dark hours among ruins of kitchen tile and the unread recipes from mother near the stove. I have taken measure of your love with a shattered instrument and was not the first to attempt deciphering your crooked brow under the uncomprehending moon. A fleet of glass fracture could tell only distance. I begin to think that there are gravities other than repetitions charted and observed those that have existed independent of any thought. When I see you, as I have for the duration of the flux in February and its forgeries of warmth, I am absolved of any other destination. Again it becomes the question of a desecrated place of waiting. Some things are undone by what is tied to them the ashes that linger or glass unswept even by the wind. And while dreams fall shallow in fading street lights there is still an awakening near the window--the slow realization that there will be only that same equilibrium where most are left alone, the few pieces of the sky that have not drowned in brightness and tea that is made every morning like this that un-darkens eyes and bears away any remembrance of the night.
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