// Claire Lux



From Atelier


Arch scar
Low point
Turns away
Soil flushed
Down powdery
Mixes into the blood
Stream of
These paddle tongued
Bodies make
Clear bright








How moisture hangs
In the dark tidal sky
Like cloth on flexed
Muscle how my love
Rescinds nasty flags
Or toys bounce down
A set of stairs








Necklace the paper moons
Performers the jostle
Synchronized to arhythmic
Feet / SINGERS suck
Back their words
Off colored light
Watery smoke it is easier
To loosen than to








To not move at all
To stand still
But then I empty

The exhibition went
Toward inner
Circles of pain
Grabs a shriveled
Room for








Im the mills ATELIER
These rainy day parts
Are my solid paints
These acrid black clouds
Are paint fumes
That split
My head in two

Im a space craft
Fill me in with
Frightful things expect
The storm to pass








Over so many postwar
Backyards preserved
Manually CAST

I could sit there all
Day squeaking stalks
Of clenched grass








A raccoon

To climb down my back
To needle the peeled
Sky plunge



Claire Lux
is a founding editor of call: review. Her chapbook, Atelier, will appear in 2005 through A.Q.P. Collective.

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