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10.30.12
Shadow Boxes

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Day’s           whole transparency

a relief                the fine turning

moon’s tug   through the morning



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Underleaf sparkless black

ants     the rock breaks     poor

Sisyphus          gallant Janus



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A leaf pile        my mind’s

eye         afraid the real’s up

for grabs            hype



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Out      of possible         should

merge               the tortoiseshell

spots              forest leaf-shrivel



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Life’s almost       passable

magna       a strange body

laying        the shadow of



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Stars disperse             homo-

geneous      “lumpy”    dark

trigger-happy         artisans



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There, immediate        you have

the genie’s          kind of crazy

it’s dead        say        convince



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Any love           roundabout

in our world          mountain

mist               fog this is not



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Flyspeck        a breath’s

reclamation        a funny

unprincipled        finesse



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Soul does develop         the

perfect bias          downright

weird        it’s demagnetized



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Ne-er-do-well    Chronos

Lord of Death    an epic

hoodwink      the soul is



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Soul’s pizzazz      the mind’s

eye-dancing        malingerer

backstage        sights the acts



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Wormholes       stars the gilt

rubs off                      under

our veil         the split world



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Behind the veil          life

works         dirt, dust, gravel       a

white-striped        longtail



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No more!         the eyes

dying down       bird horde        an offer

buried          a horizon



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Imagination          truth

the afterward         no longer

passably             human



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Bag of spells        this dream

towards which     a magician

fiddles       rapport     of wits



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Scraps of rock        troubled

where I’m from     ditch dug

to live                the beyond



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To rush out       perishable

body         the seer himself

freedom conjures    the now



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Let-down’s       tremulous

hyperbole     shattered rest

love       masks a jealousy



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So much        laying the

shadow of        passably

human         waking up



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One of the hearts           where

I come from              webbed

feet         darkness untrodden



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“Peopling”         the dream

towards which        the line

disfigured            the abyss



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The dream on each         one

of us         stop        operation

field         the source thought



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Mystery      signs    heaven-

ward       slippage      burnt

essences             the whites


Rebecca Lilly holds an MFA in creative writing from Cornell University and a PhD in philosophy from Princeton University, and works as a writer. Her publications include two collections of poems and two books on spiritual philosophy and practice.