a careful sound
in the back corner
of a concrete block room
painted white
and reeling from
discussions
of darkness
and right
the numbers
counted up
from
one point (oh
two) three nine
all the way to
nine point two times ten (to
the seventh power)
which
(currently)
denotes the
witching hour
makes me think about
when ol’ jerry clower
went to kalamazoo
and the yankees
had no idea
what to do
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