Look at the horizons of teachers taken by bad cameras framed in a maple
Wood
Razor-edge royalty severing prairie epidermis from burled washed out
Skies
A children’s book author I knew took photographs with a trailer – prints
Wide
As the behind of circus lady’s innocence magnified by colonialism, that
Lens
Times 10: “Pack the gardens and brushes” (slathered in silver nitrate pie
Trim
Big as big as big as big as can be memorized; rotting rosettes by earthen
Clods
Trimming the louvers of the truck) & plating all the damn light within orb-
Cones
Crossed; squinted, as weak as Napoleon before the Sphinx, tucking it all
In
To the creation-everlasting; a chocolate milk on my lap, monitor, spell it
Pull
On the dangling negatives ribboning a cave, from our zoo-cages, bruised
Dew
Drops her balls & pine box piano on the unsuspecting heads of the new
Boys
Who live there, praying (and conceding and dancing) displaying the prince
-Thomas E. Simmons
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