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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