KLEE'S HOUR
A snapshot
over the sidewalk
blinds the climbing
luna moth
and the raw egg
of conscience
to open a voice
from blinding fatigues
at the silence
by the window aisle
and light bulb corridor
on a noose for art
roping in intrigues
all electric
as jackstraws of terra cotta
in bare backed lava
pull with crushed terror.
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