Sarah Edwards

From notes in 010


The you is not me & the word is not your mouth, is the slight of pages I find your chatter-hole & dismiss the carved out kitchen tablet that makes a pretty Christmas in my closet & you left the door ajar & I saw the silhouette of punching magazines & lies that are in mathematics are trapped in the halo of a Stockholm, where two goat like beards were not allowed in the year of you when the apartment of Pie 9 was me & the light will still make a rectangle on my foot & you will still laugh as if the coffin between front bones do not exist. Institutionalization is only a rebel if 1+1=((1x))1y, otherwise it is a note worthy dessert meant to produce Y over the elders & you escape to meet sun kissed animals in blush society.



Two glass holes                         [you shift it in lost geometrics]
I realize the design was a factor & the length
the footsteps barred by perfect squares [threads in the box head]
are of concern if she nestled neck joint or grass cover
it wasn’t in and the roadside cafe [agent] rummaged
& found the expressive lashes to complement. [anxious in 10]but a while.
complete. It was the day the heavy cobalt hue rested behind my left ear.
& [the minor detail dismissed by 5 peak in a shrug].

Sarah Edwards is a writer and/or a poet. Her work is based on some truths and inner heart. She breathes in Annapolis, MD for now. Recently her work is published or forthcoming in Electric Cereal, Reality Hands, Purple Pig Lit, Thick Jam, etc. Her neglected tumblr: http://sarahscribbled.tumblr.com/
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