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Marjorie Welish
The poet redirected my likeness.

She said, "Not his decadence, which is a question."
"Time," she said, declining his epidemic.
                                              As if serrated,
initiatives lost modernity: aura reared up
although bracketing pages in comparative matters.
                                                           "What time is it?"
Which is a question.
                       As if serrated,
"as if" bracketing pages.

And time again, the timing of a wrecking ball—
                                                      Which is an overture.

From In the Futurity Lounge by Marjorie Welish. Copyright © 2012 by Marjorie Welish. Reprinted with permission of Coffee House Press. All rights reserved.

Marjorie Welish

by this poet

This freedom up.
A house difficult of exit, diffident of exit.

This flame up.
The false house, house of faulty entries.

This facade up.
The manifold worries architecture.

This face up.
To the artiface's winding paths we lend our gloss.

This fact up!
This house multicursal and continuous.
Do you desire to