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The Impossible Machine
A CUBIC WOOD, a longer poem
                                               page 4

Suffice a cubic wood
hair dangled on the roots
skin's mole beside the earth
skin's wart beside the toadstool

Deferrent dreams, mind caught in sand
spilling thoughts, like a river through
the land
a land that man forgot
remembered by forgotten men

thought's spool entering a subterranean
bath

Suffice a cubic wood
vervain and veridian
arch thoughts sprung from
caked shadows

Eyes exploring the knitted daylight
like gentle fingers
bare feet suspended in a field
as though over a precipice

the deep beyond the buried roots

Suffice a cubic wood
temperament looking on the clear
like peering eyes on some dry storybook
spare iconic trees, amongst variegate carpets

hard ambers,
irreplaceable bent forms
carved by wild logic
a stroke for every gnarled branch

as though erupting from a silent heart





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by Eucaleh Terrapin