St Felix Street for Tamar Grimm by Kimberly Lyons

ST FELIX STREET
for Tamar Green

by Kimberly Lyons (from 'Phototherapique')

Some itchy about vines
rid of their leaves, like hairs
invisibly cling to brick's
matted tributaries. Renata at the Opera
a man says, head bent over coffee. Later,
in this metallic valley, fumes have arranged to
meet for a cinematographic witches' Sabbath
write Breton and Soupault. I feel like
I haven't looked at anything for a long time.
Today, a feeling for the inwardness
of everything pulls thoughts
out of the spidery nexus
broken up by orange plastic chairs turned over on the cement.
Leaves float in a cupful of water and dirt.
On St. Felix Street, the antique shadows
make plum colored velvet
withered as these berries fallen off the vine.
Convergence comes at the Sabbath
on Tuesdays
in the rain.
On a bicycle
after the dentist and
before the Iron Age.

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