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maximalism 

of course i am haunted by
the tombs of kings. 
their golden bounce castles 
& jupiter guitars & bones
of all their lovers
as if you could
hold on tight enough
to make the big dark television
forget to reap you.
i am a disciple of too-much-ness.
give me a graveyard of silver shoes 
or a wall of carnival masks
to try on. we go to the goodwill again
because it is raining & we are dragons.
what keeps me alive is the thought
that treasure will give me a place
to hold my heart for the night.
it always is seeking a new nest.
i do not know
what taught me this kind of longing. 
i do not think of it as
"filling a void" but rather as
"giving the void a home."
i had a lover once 
with clean empty walls 
in her apartment. i thought,
"this person is too alive 
for me." she had a land line.
she ate kneeling on the floor.
i never saw her again.
but even the animals 
can be like me. i found once
in the deep forest 
a nest of bells. how the bird
must have harvested 
these little voices. 
am i a tomb then? or else maybe
like the bird
just a nest
a hoarder of bells?

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