Leviathan

Matthew Moore

In memoriam Tomaž Šalamun

Any sprig that touches
Air touches water—
A blow in the heart blows the wall—
After debt is a circle
Arrived around valleys licked
A thread greener than
A matter of time—now shearing season—
Astronomers prod
Angles parallel to the ram—
Apiaries muck out stables
Awash in honey or shit luck
As in uncanny valleys
Air touches wetnesses—
A horizon grows train horns
Around yourself the road—
Apex counterflow
Addled what mystery is
Aftermath the sea slurred clear—
After this hour another I come—
An ass braying on
Any sprig that touches

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