Aaron McCollough

Liberty Bell


thinking what a crack is
far from anything like a sea

addition subtraction
so rigid
a fold gives up

prodigious black wasps noose
and knot themselves by
the streetlight
conduit box balistraria

climbers, chargers, dismemberers
unwind an echo in
matted leaf and stone

calm permission at the crosswalk:
there is no danger
now you may cross



twig across vista

pressing a natural tower beneath which
deposited leaves wilt in the steam

the rumored pinching of
silty bottom fish slipt between nails

an opening and wider,
the valley and the sky spread
against each other against
our point of view:

the veins in a beetle’s wing
in the urinal



smell of dish soap
and tupperware
cool hands

this air a reservoir
for preserving
spent meaning still suited
to the remaining time

as traffic

with a butterfly not fluttering
its hands in prayer

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