Volume 6, issue 1 (Winter 2003), Masque Magazine.

Move #10

Silent, the hammer's thighs grip
Each picture hook, pulling out.
Reduced to frames, entries, verticals,
Each room fills with what I could
Never finish becoming here, what
Is hardest not to dwell in. If,
Then: at last I construct choice out of
Years of forced removals, given

Parameters. These angles were never
Right anyway; could never accommodate
An emptying of the emptiness. As I
Yearn to expand, my mind's trajectory
Eats its tail, but cannot wall in this
Relocation. The pivot, I grant myself.