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      August 14, 2010Thom WardRumpus, Cohesion, Mess

      The bed sheet knows the vices I’ve slept.
      How quickly it nooses my feet. Someone said,
      we’re wrong men in a right world, all that
      zigzag anger. Not quite—that’s another movie.
      We’re wrong men who’ve built a wrong world,
      each with a knapsack full of crushed glass,
      cigarette butts. Photos of our children march
      off the walls to a music only the dog can hear.
      Rumpus minus cohesion equals mess. So many
      weapons, I’m waiting for the plunger to make
      the first move. Why should the water play fair.
      Is that a cross around your neck or the last bird?
      Things forgotten scream out for help in dreams
      but not as loudly as things remembered.

      Read by Tim

      from #32 - Winter 2009