NEW: Box of Sky:Skeleton Poems by Amanda Deutch

Allow me to linger in your aftermath
box of sky. a (s)kill as in nightmare and whatever else.
some say, “See me tomorrow.” Some scream, “It’ll never happen.” on the corner of Great Jones and Bowery. Incidently, nowhere is no place it was before anymore which can be quite disorienting, but some may say, “At least we have televisions in taxicabs now and so many new condominiums.” On the subway she is reading, The Secret to Positive Thinking, as she elbows me unaware of her body. To my left, a man reads, Communication in Brokerage. Glass towers shoot back a liquidized reflection. Abbreviations leave a language that once was now in the was. how words can re fathom themselves without us knowing and masks behind masks pop on in the land of selves communicating with other selves. so many screens and reconfigurations to separate us with. delineations in place of dirt. hairless beings devoid of their hairy primacy. box of sky. silent. meeting.