Merrill Gillaspy              editor
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morning lines #111

7/11/2017

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everything i don’t know or understand
floats in on a molecule of dust--dirty and unseen--
like the mites and dog under the comforter with me,
breathing as if muddled, muffled, or mute,
when the dog’s nostril sends out a chord in e minor,
and an ambulance squeals in the distance,
and everything i don’t know or understand
exits on the same molecule out the rear window and
over the neighbor’s weathered and weathering fence
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