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To Micah Ballard in San Francisco

I give away all that I am

frame moments that remain

rolled straight from brown eyes

I know charms turn the crowd to action

another silent chill says

alone is a way-station to form

how underrated we are

as a skull makes the oasis of a smile

cry out obsessive familiars

true love formulates hours of light

behold a blank regality

watching the day unfold

I am more myself today

when the body falls away

we are eaten by the fugue state

anything goes by saying yes

chronic dreams revisit the past

proper pleasures seed the head

if your love be not free

the depths look like shallows

there's a demand for the genius

of broken overtones

we must march to the beat

the one about self-exception

our ferocious dissidence and blazing

topicality, spectral cathedrals

using us for incense


Geoffrey Young

Geoffrey Young's most recent book of poetry is Lights Out.


The Brooklyn Rail


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