from The Lost Weekend
after Sherrie Levine


A Glass of Water at Hand



A secure flap
drags a flag —
                       spoiled oil
rolled over into a tarp —
                                      decamped tent —


back to the State
of Umbrellas —
                          morpheme drips
sealing in the sovereign —
                                           apostrophe S —


where the downpours
pelt everything but —
                                  filled-in erasers
crowning pencils-on-paper —
                                               drawn scepters —


the sprinklers themselves
embedded in the overhead —
                                              sous-surplus
ceilings made from glass —
                                            amortized Alamogordo —


encyclopedic step-by-step
mixed directives —
                               Hermeshucaglypsos
transmitted as a transplant —
                                              embossed factory.


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