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Nervous System (excerpt)

*

When you look down

inside yourself

what is there?

You are a walking bag of surgical instruments

shining from the inside out

and that’s just

today

Tomorrow it could be different

When I think of the childhood inside me I think of sunlight dying on
a windowsill

The voices of my friends

in the sunlight

All of us running around

outside our

deaths

from The End of the WestFind it in the library

Copyright © 2009 Michael Dickman
Used with the permission of The Permissions Company, Inc.
on behalf of Copper Canyon Press.

Published in Michael Dickman Poems

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