David Gardner

where you a

    after Matthew Cooperman


   a mystery, face
the corner, and west, stare
a dinner down, the eyes
of speech, what does

passing, a branch
that says know me, says
how you be?

               the moon
dragged over, in the drapes,
that far away and bend,


of mud, a yard with going
water stands, the bank
falls.

        it rings. the wind
turns, spools and again
still a wheel.

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