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Zach Savich

These days of disinheritance



These days of disinheritance / October

asks: you wanna salve / salvage / salvation /

I’m done with Dante / is it easier to make

a lion out of a rug or a sandwich / I used

to ask / I think the first leads to the last /

on the bus / a woman with a voice

so palpable, soothed / no one minds her on

the phone / she doesn’t know if there will

be time for dinner before the film / river

brighter through the older bridge / you

can see it only from the new / where I grew

up everything was an hour’s drive / west

was further east / I bought tomatoes at

the roadside stall / between breakdown and

impound, an easement / one’s head here

does not clear / the river moves enough to turn

a body / held in place / by / it’s far from me to say







Because the autobiography does not resemble

autobiography as much as I thought was clear enough

in the sense of a movie which cannot start

soon enough we meet only to see then part as it ends

a kind of selfhood I trusted most, conspires,

the ingredients do not combine as much as touch each

dimension severally, how I was in hiding, hauntingly

perpendicular to your linoleum earth, the aim not true

though my aiming is



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