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Every time the door opened and she looked

“Such is the life of the elderly

It is curious, lying in a bat” then closed.

A park a

Lewd son bursting into ash approach end deliberating

All the signs on all the stoops. Is this the part where she has a beer?

Does this weigh pewter?

By the patch saying dime to enter I believe it does.

I believe in trading heartbeats for the will to planets

I believe in candlelight and the front may draw

The ocean’s larger face

To have known, not swallowed is the will to be

Went out through casts forlorn


Take a goal

Set it down

Write way through it

Write “it’s hell”

Write “like loss”

Then sign away your name in cursive.

Then sign away your name in black.

Then sign away your name in gold.

Then sign away your name. Allow.

Run toward. Do not be charmed with a lot.

When notions do rise do not cancel them but blot

Tan, tune and take for a ride any low-hanging fruit


It looked like a calculator

but was actually the unfettered conclusion

of a brand cold-leading

a problem into my art: delivery

the worst debt of all who earn it looked, why, to me, like man

had turned it and bargained to stop

when through gun lightning sawed his hand

to replace foil. Messed. up. I was just writing a little swirli

cue a little heart den hiccup

My life unswallowed me to be Who Anne

To know


Tea is made of all of it

And the spangled green kitchen, marriage is a fortress to

it is so plain. Curd, eggs, salad

set holly on the third

doorway to the enemyplaybook: “hi” or “cast.”

The night, when donned, braids such a tooth.

Infantry, like the mortician's dog, enters, again and again.

No light that’s swaddled such rain

boots the winter war when up, no ligature runs.

I ham

a potion.

I turtle, cats wane

went to the isle, drew myself a tiki house

sung of samson sung of tiles, cray cups

then swatted south.

That way over.


I was goned.

Pray functional, it is like I am seeing

the eye where it cuts, not lessons

ELISE HOUCEK is the author of TRACTATUS (Spuyten Duyvil) and a poetry pamphlet,The Leafs, with the Creative Writing Department. She likes to eat radishes, teaches writing to kids and is a graduate of the MFA program at Notre Dame. More work can be found at

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