1 minute read
The Landscape
after “To Be Liked By You Would Be a Calamity”
Exists not as a symptom of some other
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Thing’s virtue—rather, it is the other thing
Which acts as a fixed-point,
An imperfect glass hindered by indecisiveness,
A vantage;
The curtain of ivy, a helmet of blood,
Wind tangling the branches, a shadow breathing
On a shirt. The disjoint
Patience of a whole stripped to significance: to hold
Such damage.
