We’ll need more staples
to build a bridge with this page
in stacks and glue, columns
beneath a long folio
Plastic hands, oh welling
in the garbage bin of ink
Hands standing without a body
like sunrise pancakes
Some pressure jam
Screeching bolt
zigzag echoes folio
Cloudy echelon
Sketch along
Braised brace
Gum wad of equilibrium
End of the whirl
Knot dying to undo
the masthead
Floppy sail, but not sad
Remembers the wind
in all it knows
too well
Love,
Nick
P.S. psst
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