Fourteen Lines of Self

plate glass puck disguises
itself surrounded by speed
enticing to watch from afar 
even the viewer at her sewing
while parsnips pare themselves
mostly the body's job
to disinherit shame
a natural consequence
of being lodged in 
flesh and frame with odors
and pain does imagery 
have to be like those gray
wood slats some speckled
bird when I rarely
think in harmonic thirds


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