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Jeremy Hoevenaar

Give In Or Die Trying



Bring your own flowers for the sole survivor,

a bottle of aged light for the failed rescue operation.


Burn roots and twigs to propitiate the fitful animals

that threaten to swallow all of your airtime.


This if a fence arises in the guise of a non-entity. 


The drawn line will be arbitrary and frayed where dazed

conversation sticks in its own feigned loop.


Who knows what these headaches indicate?


 I am too busy being torn through every window

 to mimic the sun-ignition of one dusty talisman.


I had some idea that dived frightened into a wound.

From there flowed numerous quaintly chic subjectivities. 


At dusk, to honor the shadow cast by wordless recognition,

I vow to cultivate the space of a missing person.  

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