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Mudlark 08 (Murphy)
MUDLARK No. 8 (1998)
ISSN 1081-3500
Copyright (c) Mudlark 1998
Editor: William Slaughter
E-mail: mudlark@unf.edu
URL: http://www.unf.edu/mudlark
__________________________________________________
A SOUND THE MOBILE MAKES IN WIND
by Sheila E. Murphy
__________________________________________________
CONTENTS
Author's Introduction
He Could Not Sing
Fulfillment Center
Securities and Exchange
Intermittencies
Configurato
What Next
Safe Places
A Relay
Her Neighbors All Have Power
There Was a Silly Putty Look within Her Lazy Eye
Metonymy as Such(ness)
Incommunity
Stagnation
Corporate Giving
Remake
Invariation
Champion
The Syndrome of the Catalogs
A Range of Quiet
Scorch
Forming a Base
Everyone Is Busy
Not Just a Leaflet
Encryption
Something to Show
Keening with an A
The Ralph in Each of Us
Gravestones
Reflex
Flesh
An Inabundant Spine
Treason-Toed
World Flow
Time(tables)
A Holiday
Eternity
Snail Mail
The System
Two Urges
Variations
Scorch
Plainsong
Shoreline, Traffic
The Chemistry of War
Simile
Cue Cards
Dial Tone
Washing on the Pretty Line
Faith
Not the Single Notes
__________________________________________________
AUTHOR'S INTRODUCTION
It is a privilege for me to share this selection of fifty new American
Haibun, as I term them, on the virtual pages of MUDLARK. The haibun is a
prose passage, followed by a single-line haiku of a varying number of
syllables. In the American use of the form, the single line often
extends beyond the original boundaries. (Some writers follow the
practice of using a traditional three-line haiku at the end.)
For me, the relationship between the prose passage and the haiku that
follows is the key to the form. Therein lies a spectrum of kindredness
and tension. As discoverer of that relationship, the writer is gifted by
surprise as the image starts to clarify within the figurative pan of
water being touched to urge forward a kind of small song.
I first became acquainted with the haibun in early 1984. At that time,
John Ashbery published "Six Haibun" in an issue of _Sulfur_. What struck
me was the dazzle of American language that stretched and sharpened the
form, changing it substantially from the Japanese haibun in translation
that appeared in the anthology _From the Country of Eight Islands_.
Those translations seemed to me comforting and quiet, if plain. In
fairness, change is inevitable in translation. Clearly, though, the
American language seemed to bring forward different possibilities that
tempted exploration.
And, predictably enough, I was attracted to the form enough to to try
writing one. I discovered that the prose flowed naturally, possibly
because the haibun invites acknowledgment of the common. And in that
acknowledgment, one is made weightless by the discovery of a deeper layer
of reality that (when right) arrives unforced. The sensation resembles
that of a harmonic in music, wherein a string is touched lightly to
produce a tone of higher frequency than if the string were pressed full
force.
My first full-length book, WITH HOUSE SILENCE (Stride Publications, U.K.,
1987) was comprised exclusively of haibun. I have since composed a
number of these poems, which have appeared in other collections,
including SAD ISN'T THE COLOR OF THE DREAM (Stride, 1991); A CLOVE OF
GENDER (Stride, 1995); and FALLING IN LOVE FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU
SYNTAX: SELECTED AND NEW POEMS (Potes & Poets Press, 1997).
It is possible that my use of the form has changed over the 13 years I
have been loving it. For one thing, the poems arrive quite naturally,
along with each delicate surprise that happens at the end when prose is
followed by a space that in turn is followed by a line. For me, haibun
seem to happen forth in full sound costume as my mind plays in the
language only to find what later will be called work.
Sheila E. Murphy
December 27, 1997
__________________________________________________
HE COULD NOT SING
He could not sing worth dimples but she let him anyway because he paid
the water bills that furnished all their showers. Echo chambers lease
themselves to vocalists with appetites to match the butter knives and
drapes, the carpet and the patio, the lacy trees with verdigris alert for
photographs. A piano for the photographs of relatives unhappy with their
fate whatever they might choose to name it. He could not sing worth
contents of confessionals in parishes they'd left but she was game for
all the notes that sounded tongue-in-cheek. He let them rinse themselves
out of the sacrament they were with condiments and vague connections to
another earth. He could not sing a capella until midnight wore itself to
dawn. When she would hear him ruining the house with what she wished
were trepidation but resembled much more closely self affection
brightened by the signals he'd received. He could not sing worth
unemployment checks that he would never greed. He loved his weight and
exhalation. And he loved to hear the evidence of having shucked his
childhood with affection pinched out of the Tupperware and all the breath
gone from the fresh mint leaves and chicken broiled just right. He had
no inclination of a way to celebrate the lime or oven or the toasted
light.
Irreverence, a pilot light sustained by the amendment of some purity
recovered from the lost and found
__________________________________________________
FULFILLMENT CENTER
A customer has circus on the brain. Beautiful brain, electrified and
tantalizing brain that feeds us generously often. Go ahead and mention
what you like. I'll look it up. Then waive something that most likely
offers the capacity for making music. What do you call that portion of
the eye one pays to have peeled off to sharpen sight glands? Out front
are satisfaction surveys. Receptionists trained to hear and to absorb
taunts and confusion. Guest psychologists to help you love what we will
go on selling anyway. To heal what we foresee as an unnecessary
emptiness by mix-and-match technology. In the middle of rank-ordered
depth, to lift above this planet in a swirl of what is labeled rapture on
account of certain items owned. To enter a relationship with something
inanimate changes the way you think about the concept reciprocity. That
one side "does the work" no longer is the issue. There are majestic
ladderings to think about. Drugs to paint onto the body's scape. That
likely recall some wonder of the world from an unclear though jubilant
perspective. Lifts in the shoes to resurrect prior mentalities.
Tenderness afforded inventory, touch as the deciding...
__________________________________________________
SECURITIES AND EXCHANGE
Opportunity shows itself to the door not properly seated on its hinges.
Each time the snare drum mail arrives, I'm in a blanket pondering the
cleanest hatch to lift from. It isn't every day a preposition makes you
an offer that you can't indemnify. Get lost was all he practiced saying,
despite my paying yards of bucks to have her listen to his gibber. Drool
ran down what seemed once a coffer, and I held firm to the belief it was
whatever I could picture and then scan into my neighbors' heads. What
are they thinking to each other without language. The more he doesn't
say, the more it costs me. Champions report taking an average dose of
the small delicious pink pill of 14.4 milligrams. And that it dampens
the downward blink to a degree that's not supported by peculiar body
gravity. Relax in the Baroque way of inhering each likely pattern of the
stones embedded in my new silk plants supposed to simulate a being that
would share this oxygen. The string of words ought to provide a demo
mentioning that one had lived within the limits of a certain mood all
acre long and spread a little influence like bird seed somewhere bought.
It's tempting to give no report at all some days. I hear her skittering
in the yard as nervously as something owned. The compass in my pocket
points where I direct it. Who's paying bills here. For every furnace
that affection comes to, an equal and residual retreat smarts its way
back into a centerfold. That would collapse whatever mute extensions
happen to occur to the thought process. The concert mistress simply
bowled over the thrifty crowd by virtue of how long she'd kept her
strings intact.
Knockwurst, tribulations, hosing down the patio and sidewalk, blank paper
in the storage shed
__________________________________________________
INTERMITTENCIES
Her kiss just like a whisper passed the salvos juxtaposed with sacredness
albeit sans configuro repealant's morphity ping prongless saturelment
acre-ease my chinstrap en route to grass courts, my glass skirt
challenging the light of gravity's hospitable brick fossil path. Play
the oceanic form of cradle in amazed left-justified machine inclusive of
slip covers and Jurassic lullabilia. So many prose glyphs numen their
way sofaward. Until collaborative safety moans into unwanted facial hair
of someone salty in the month of June's apres-midi continually lurking
east of nest points in the fois gras of contagious dithers who becomes
important to have touched within the tone row bylines of an apple aimed
at teachers' desktops scattered through the temporary building.
Gel confronted as non-substance, then erased into some substance,
fatherwear and things to come
__________________________________________________
CONFIGURATO
I thought of having a rubber stamp made into just my name, and punching
it on things to freshen up this plain white achy paper, make it look like
Neiman's where my friend finds solace. She frequently invites me to have
meals when someone's being honored, and the best people to have come
display allegiance. Sometimes dollar bills exude a form of kindness
those without them don't expect. I ask myself continually how instinct
relates; how you can place parameters on _second hand_. I have been
schooled, this is not pure, I have been engineered to have believed. And
trained in various arrangements of reality, such as: "Whoever falls into
your path becomes your (sole) responsibility." That's Christianity in
one slanted lump. The right connections are essentially immoral's what I
get from this. Setting aside amounts of time to make those webbings
would be wrong, when there are people to take care of _(Who has time to
leaf through space!)_ right here in our community! You don't get far
when worshipping according to a recipe. I'm part of that small domed
interior posing as duty-bound with no evil intentions. I can tell you
right now, I'm as clear as anyone can get, despite my father's words
"There are no pure motives." He simply wanted to de-gush my mother's
skewed perspective, which I think he thought concerned an impulse
fundamentally acquisitive. Second guessing comes to be a hobby when your
faith prevents your knowing things. Ironically, then, time is spent like
water. Fears grounded in all things that we have wasted, all that we
have yet to waste. To be invited is to have been acquired in some small
way. People invest in shoring up support for what they like to see
believed. I'm one of them. Can prove what you've been taught may be as
insufficient as your yield. But that's another story.
Consecutives all in a row, predictable as the intended flowers placed
along intent-ed lawns
__________________________________________________
WHAT NEXT
Neighbors who were mild all of a sudden burst into 24-pack types with
friends clogging their patio at four a.m. and we are left deciding upon
things that we might try, to snuff out the activity without inducing
problematic reflex. There is this gland appearing to act up. When all
we wanted was to breezeway our small lives into a comfort. No one's
fighting, it is just the hour lacking in music and the full assortment of
cans left in the middle of the table. Move, countermove, and move again.
People milling around to find out where they might hold still. There is
the language barrier which dribbles fear across the bibs of the routinely
competent who shrivel when it's time to talk with hands. However you
might read this filter, it's upstaged by future possibilities. Good
morning, say the innocents. Good morning, say the sunbathers. Good
morning say the sperm and egg that have not met. What kind of
temperature might we be talking about. Hamstrung by others' moods and
templates, prestigitators and commandments strung together in a fray of
fitness meant to tide us over at the onset of an oligarchic sentencing.
Joystick and its recent disappearance, gender studies, practicing the
hymns in English then reverting to the Latin
__________________________________________________
SAFE PLACES
She telephones Utah, reasoning the date and time, day of the week into
her conversation. He has rested, might be resting still. Snow shine,
small matters to report. She covers each thing. Bathing. Walking the
presiding evidence as shakenly as one would move without a cane through
things. Talks of relatives as though their lives were not replete with
miniscule details that fashion volumes. She helps him reconstruct the
day so far. She says the same thing she just said with variation,
filling out the blanks if there are blanks. Having reached the topic
basketball, in which her fluency is worthy of a prize. The use of names,
a chant. Speaks slowly as though mouthing prayer to some considerate,
familiar God. The air conditioning goes on midway between some
syllables. She and he enjoy a wavelength. She thus paces the talk,
pronouncing what is said. The day was right to call, the other relatives
have left his town. He is unnoticeably alone, receives her conversation
well. She gentles both their ways past sadness that would come of
letting him recall a fleck of what he was. Fills him in on what is true.
He might support her, though it's not his habit to be obvious. As
support's supposed to be quiet. She mentions breaking of the car she
purchased from his brother, now deceased. A car that would have harmed
her children. His remarks remain inaudible as far away as in this room.
She's waiting to put on the game between the Heat and Knicks. Her plan
for Sunday afternoon. The date and time as real as any thunder or
residual. She knows he picks up on the flow of story. Something to
attend. The tangibles can form a tale. She tells him we will share a
car. He shows an interest in details. Food enters the conversation. Her
voice lilts in a way I know he finds familiar. Very much her mother's
child. Sing-talking all the day's pronouncements.
Semiautomatic love, reading odometers for fun, comparing notes, comparing
distances
__________________________________________________
A RELAY
Would you mind feeling my forehead, easing off the see-through pendula
with gravity placed top of mind? I'm not sure when I'm comfortable, and
my doubt competes with ways to measure rain. Remember all those alto
leanings that accentuate the cornucopia, distinct from latitude and
long-. A feet-first approach to diving captivates the hearts but not the
minds of judges. Whose eyes linger on aquaria, expecting to find results
where there were simply false economies. My favorite tracer lifts off
parity and borrows trade and tapestry. Remember to write thank-you notes
to those you think you'll love during retirement. The one of us most
glyphy speaks four languages. How do you know when you are being well?
It's time to play the resource game. Permit me to introduce our four
contestants recently found playing golf on acreage you would be hard
pressed to believe. Who have declared a moratorium on glee and excess
paint along the wide diameter intended to escort the entrails of a recent
peace. She told me she would not be left holding the body chemistry like
that. That I would have to learn to fend...and that whatever I declared
to like, I'd have to make myself in green or any colors symbolizing
brains and competence and frenzy to prove that I had worked myself into a
possible return.
Cavities that grow into analyses of the survivors of the jaundiced
practice of amazement handed down
__________________________________________________
HER NEIGHBORS ALL HAVE POWER
I am on the phone with the power company that serves South Bend, Indiana,
to report my mother's lights and stove and heat are gone, and she is
huddled in a blanket, unable to read, at eight o'clock at night, touching
the phone occasionally, flirting with sleep. Her neighbors all have
power. The street lamp blares outside her window. And the flashlight
batteries have gone to seed after the night before, the same as now, when
she has telephoned to talk with me as though I were a real adult, and
she, a child. Last night it occurred to me that once I weighed three
point five pounds. Once I was all eyes. The summer months were all I
knew of light that I could not acquire. My mother, premie, too, was
balanced on the oven door to simulate the womb warmth in a format more
objective, less familiar, one supposes. For the country is itself warm
insufficiently, with neighbors far away as stands of trees close to the
river, strong unto itself and distant. At no time in my life have I
retracted the palaver found in jazz-smooth instruments. That pours now
from the speaker of this telephone beside me, into which I will report my
mother's solitude, her fear, and mine. I will recite the specificity of
her concern, being surrounded as she is by lights she cannot use,
belonging to her neighbors who are really very far away. Here in the
desert, there can never be sufficient light. Today is muted with an
inattention to the weather previously mild. All snowstorm long we wore
our attitudes of layered clothes, attempting to be renaissance interior
designers, seeing things and hearing how they feel in contexts foreignly
desired. A woman's voice keeps interrupting now repetitive tonality and
offering apologies and gratitude in general for a projected patience in
which I do not partake. She interrupts then a Metheny clone to say they
care about our safety, and to watch out for power lines down in our yard,
move ladders, antennas, brooms and poles away from those still in
position. Her voice is soothing in its age a little bit ahead of mine.
Now the music's snappy with a dab of perk. My keyboard seizes the
attention, as I hear all representatives are handling calls from other
customers. Moths, I call them. Looking for a little light, the way I
do. A mother whose warm liquid eyes would radiate a whole room when my
size was so small as to be lost in someone's lap. Apart from power lines
and sediment. The rocking horse of trees made to house better weather
than our forbears owned.
Working in the yard, post storm, from far away a flash of lightning that
defines the day and coming days
__________________________________________________
THERE WAS A SILLY PUTTY LOOK WITHIN HER LAZY EYE
Any time she was engaged in tasks, she failed to drag and click, as if to
voice in screaming headline colors to the world this prime injustice.
There was a silly putty look within her lazy eye when something was
expected. She could exaggerate and make it seem as though something
imbued with too high a cost of doing business were ever there. She was
an expense. The folly of expecting yams from stone seeds frittered to
the point where only lawsuits could provide. No one tuned sane would
make requests of her. She stretched things, but she never stretched.
Consider the delivery system of her world, entrenched as it continued as
a mantra, laden with a corrugated plunge into the dimness that inhibited
the safety. Pondered and then strained out of an unsafe situation. All
despite the coating of an angel whitening her arms right where the wings
would be.
Sequest-, request, behest, unblooming all unwanted
__________________________________________________
METONYMY AS SUCH(NESS)
What a featured city this becomes, with both our living amid shade trees.
Owning capacity to sort crust from the softness in these words we choose.
Diplomacy is evidence of partial language. Our jobs define us;
pointlessly we leisure from them. Cyclical means part of itself to people
who like using the word. Subtraction is just one form of arithmetic.
Letting go differs from allowing. The swimming pool on three-day weekend
Monday will emit a drizzle of the coconut in lotion, and the conversation
will be funds-related and intemperate where sexuality's concerned. Who
in the world spends any time at all performing or receiving. Conversation
trembles to a brief conclusion that it might be possible to order from a
catalogue and not come in under the lights and be exposed to all that
personality paid to engage. A sensitivity about some missing reciprocity
is all. In sum, there typically is little going on. We dub our favorite
tapes, dismembering the voice from visuals. A transaction includes both
pitch and catch, not simply gathering in one's arms what has fallen.
Although these entities have been split into dualities. People assigned
to do part of a thing must then convene, a nuisance in itself.
Stardom or career as the excuse for someone's never reproducing
__________________________________________________
INCOMMUNITY
Virtuosi clinging to the prospect of a mother/father boundary refuse to
play in tune, refuse not to have played in tune. What ingredient laces
former recipes to make sleep non-denominational. That said, verbatim
flings cost money when their skewed inflections scamper out of bounds so
what was meant differs from what the hearers (naive and intact) declare
they heard. "It was nothing," insists the concert mistress. But we
know differently. The way she touched the hand of the conductor. All
those needlings swelling in her eyes. Binoculars tell what voice won't,
as the body lacks defense against at least six senses. Gemological
societies defend their prize possessions others might desire to wear. It
made no sense the handlers of those instruments consistently would fail
to get along. As a rich man, he seemed unable to uninstall the program
that had tamed him. The allure of quicksand formed a pretense that itis
not the most direct route downward. Insufficent to be shimmering in some
field then flounder as a child. Abandonment remains contagious. Those
who have been left retain the gift of leaving in a way they do not feel
themselves. Of finding ones to love who do. So rifts that canit make
sense contribute to recidivism. Language sharpens harsher language.
Cinders with the sun on extrasensory small faces that guard morning like
a near-term darkness barely understood although completely frequent
anymore.
Youth music, foreignness of the applause, solos contiguous and stitched
together into something known, unsharable
__________________________________________________
STAGNATION
She wore a blouse belonging to her daughter. Soiled the blouse, retained
the blouse, and ruined the relationship's viscosity. Easy-to-induce
edges revealed their colors (true) and very soon the rift became its own
cement block fence. Where a curse liked being what a curse is best: a
kind of rainbow skitterish with scars that everybody knows they caused.
What kind of insistence works best on a mind that's like a laser beam and
hungry. She told her daughter this or told her that and emphasized the
ways in which her life was just her own. Apart in other words from hers.
In which the daughter could not find her, course correct, purchase on
margin new affection more fitting and more easily described.
Familial treason, impartial links, still printing after learning cursive
script
__________________________________________________
STAGNATION
She wore a blouse belonging to her daughter. Soiled the blouse, retained
the blouse, and ruined the relationship's viscosity. Easy-to-induce
edges revealed their colors (true) and very soon the rift became its own
cement block fence. Where a curse liked being what a curse is best: a
kind of rainbow skitterish with scars that everybody knows they caused.
What kind of insistence works best on a mind that's like a laser beam and
hungry. She told her daughter this or told her that and emphasized the
ways in which her life was just her own. Apart in other words from hers.
In which the daughter could not find her, course correct, purchase on
margin new affection more fitting and more easily described.
Familial treason, impartial links, still printing after learning cursive
script
__________________________________________________
CORPORATE GIVING
The body ounces. This is what the body does. Retains its ounces. To
have stabilized. So any extra would conform to a known wing. Bring on
shapely somethings. Give them back so artfully there wouldn't be a
shadow. Calisthenics might remove the swelling from the dance. When
anyone might look there grows expensively neuralgia in the taint of
things. Is restitution likely, sure, emulsified. Tell me something I do
not already know. The nominative redress invites a plum to have been
whittled. Drift away from all the profit in the sometimes happy lungs.
Express more than you activate. Describe as economically as you are
capable of doing what makes up a verb. Elastic fractions filter what is
whole. The paper had it wrong. The radio. Whoever wore a mood ring
stiffened every urgency. Erased the nap late Saturday as a reminder
youth is a prerequisite to desirability. When darkness is in touch, our
interest begins to drift. Nothing reportable. Nothing reported. Acres
of this inclination last. For once we have a curve to satisfy. Which
one of us is likely to be whole. Which fastball will escape the wood.
What will announcers have declared.
A review of the parameters defining what it takes to have a thing be over
__________________________________________________
REMAKE
She said the upper echelon provided her a view minus the perk of
ignorance that made her colorize vanilla standalones now looped into a
circuitry conspiratorially understood. There also was the issue of her
mother and some blamelessness assigned out of convenience. Green visors
made both of them feel very much supported and at home in their
surroundings. Criminal neglect, though fosterable, challenged the
alignment of the status quo, the system and amenities. Imagine how it
was, had been, within the room where she was treated amicably. No longer
a soprano. License fees draining the principal, to the extent that she
was cardboard and afloat in tiers all midnight long. She had to get
away, meaning the rigamarole failed to be transfigured once the clientele
burned patterns in the screen. Although the igloo was oppressed by warm
breath, it remained within the scope of the agreement of longevity. When
you work for someone, you accept the healing in the windmill that propels
the power. _When you earn your living as a priest, you are already
living in the afterlife_. I am about to close my eyes. My eyes remain
about to close. What's hanging on the line. She's listening too
attentively. It's close, the air in here is close. Preambling its way
to Heathrow. Just a couple floors away from numbered cloud.
Apology, wing wax, key tresses starting to define the shelves
__________________________________________________
INVARIATION
A daily low strength aspirin small and yellow keeps the heart one way.
Routine the same as lust only without the need of speed bumps advertises
a becoming look and feel. The takers shun the skeptics. Groups form
around opinions. Think of a religion as the missing of some points.
A-fling around the rosy, more important who is not included than who is.
Some exclamation points convene and leave mundane things in rows that
don't do many things. Undress and lie down in safe beds. Allow the mind
to shuffle days into less sense in color language so desirable it will
repeat until what's real shifts to what will not be. A clear coast if
not one that's accessible. Consider the communication spattered and
impinging. Having the objective of continuance if not of reproduction.
Shoulders near another pair of shoulders. Possibly resembling a
communion.
Food, shelter, clothing, and a Macintosh
__________________________________________________
CHAMPION
Living in a loft need not be breezy. The Pacific lobs us norms and
matching honoraria. Would the correct score please identify itself.
Better facts be known than all this hooded fiction. A cement truck
ranges from a stalled position to the skid of hovercraft across the speed
bumps in our alley. What kinds of improvements must be made to toughen
self esteem. This is no time for religiosity to interfere with common
sense. In what way do error messages relate to academic preparation.
The binoculars are over there. See that you don't waste them.
Furniture, fixtures, and equipment, a hose length away from popularity
__________________________________________________
THE SYNDROME OF THE CATALOGS
I have bushels full of opt. again. I mean this inkling that I've had
umbilically came true all over. So I'm not so sure that I am here. This
weevil side of underthings someone predicted. Where at times like this
do you invest. In temperature, in petty norms, in types of commerce
people crop about when they have no drug store or toy shop for retreat.
Collections and corrections and seashores of dust. We're loose weavings
of tentacles reflexively acquiring. He contacts me from space with all
his anchors having lost weight and his tone rows blanching. Guide me
home, I sometimes ask when he is looking like he's thinking about
something else. Is there a wild attraction full of seams that says the
"Do not enter" sign's an invitation. Promise me you'll find plainness
fulfilling, I imply. Again, he does not hear me. He's ensconced in
window shopping in the syndrome of the catalogues. Why don't we leave
this one alone, he's sure to say when I am truly steamed and hoping that
my germs catch other homes for them. He says again he'd like for us to
cruise without control. The arboretum's nice, why don't we go there and
imagine why the trees half sturdy and half interesting seem to grope for
an uncharted sky. The only Romeo we know about in someone's heart has
never had an artist's sketch and never will. Somewhere well within the
Adirondacks is a word, a person, and a hope that everything will smooth
itself to newmown hay. All things will gland. And everything will sew
itself to the companion frenzy everyone has waited for that cannot last.
A camera capable of doing that has springs. Leaps forward. Links each
of the pictures in a rapid-fire arrangement. So everything that's
possible bleeds into everything that's also possible. And dry land makes
a showing someplace in the middle of the sea.
Imagination, shown and told and gradually improved upon, the sparks that
race like heartbeats, a request for transfer
__________________________________________________
A RANGE OF QUIET
Preponder health so opusly there is a little pile of things to show.
Listen then to steely birds name treatises and low plane moan to go with
twists in sky and quiet. In this our neighborhood these squeaking things
rehearse their own autonomy. The verbiage slides into home again, people
remark on what eventually mattered. Osmosis is the major way of learning
what is not worth learning anymore. A range of quiet stays the course.
Ethereal when we blush names into another cortex in the hope of code's
eventually blossoming into weather. If you land on this one
concentration, maybe it will find inherent wings and you will own them
and repair your life again. The miniature fragrance is the cool tan of
the christened birds the opposite monotony when something has been
memorized. Relax, retrace, forgive all sources and enjoy the
derivations.
Branches for a reason, scope and sequence of the shoots, a clearing for
the purpose of the sky
__________________________________________________
SCORCH
What makes a pontiff listened-to. The punishable eros maybe that's
surpassed the lengths of houses and the textured streets. Form throttles
the paced _assimilation_. Concurs with furnace and the land and several
varieties of taxi down the halt zone. Cremation's not the way.
Sforzando's not the way. Pavillion's just a quarter hour from here, so
here, let me escort you. Three softgels of cod liver oil ease movement.
Among the sandstone mountains and fishermen prospecting abundance. Why
don't you medicate the self you've advertised, begin the cycle of the
cloning and the cycle of impediments. It's treetop time, and time to
mourn the space where growth's en route to trespass. Breaking up won't
happen by itself. We're destined to accommodate what we already see into
the future. And future is a startling guess as pretty and as predicated
as a mood swing. Share and shave and panic just alike.
Routine, a sound the mobile makes in wind postured as icy or as heated
breath
__________________________________________________
FORMING A BASE
Any mediocrity went unnoticed prior to the setting-in of pushy volunteers
who wanted something no one could afford to get or give. Motive candles
muted pressure of the loaded words disintegrating under pinlights all
donated for the cause. The creditors knew how to multiply more than the
donors who possessed no names, no business cards, and no addresses. The
only one who wore a watch spoke in blood-nasal voice. Unposted signs
were all around despite the epidemic switching-off of intuition when
there never was a greater need. The telephone rang homelessly until those
needing crashed before the inner sancta that belonged to those skilled in
scaling brick exteriors. Silence surrounded practice used to sharpen
skills others would want. And there were prices to be handed down as
evenly as a consideration that concerned inclusion. Results would always
be originals having stiff penalties for copying, which in itself
intensified the lust for generating multiples.
Who was not invited, far more interesting than who was, and the alliances
__________________________________________________
EVERYONE IS BUSY
Everyone is busy doing the unlikables. Just barely mentioning the places
on the body stung by a routine neglect. Everyone parses logic hovering
around vacations as though that were all of the relief available.
Vacations thus expected to remove the heat of an abuse as common as a
weekday, have it surgically removed or redirected. Everyone is working
late at plotting the escape, with the equation yet atop the mantel.
Everyone is busy being interesting to people who cannot discern that no
one is, it's just the marketplace being its sexy, hard-to-get self, on
account of all the frenzy of the takers. Everyone is piecemealing around
among the leavings of the other everyones in hope of bringing accidental
royalty by virtue of a spontaneous, deep-seated justice. Everyone
partakes of the identicality of butterflies and frozen syrup in twin
columns. Everyone is "fixing" to go home if they can figure where that
is, knowing that it has to be decided once and have that be for all.
Breast feeding versus the bottle, process in relation to its outcomes,
formidable-appearing patterns that might furnish happiness, despite the
record showing facts placed in a row
__________________________________________________
NOT JUST A LEAFLET
Pressure need not be political. There's emotional; there's physical;
there's even a projection of two of the three types proposed. He wanted
the whole heart, not just a leaflet of the things believed. Parading
represented one way of reporting to the council, "Here, and there are
more of me." Collision coverage should not be confused with the
inevitability of crash. "I'm in the market for your money. Tell me what
I have to do to get it, short of an aggressive act." These were the very
words that started what he thought to call a beautiful relationship. You
can take riches, feathers, or serotonin reuptake inhibitors to help make
lines touch. Matching's a sweet act. People calling dogs along the
sidewalk. Using them as means less obvious for putting out their needs
and lining up resources. My preferred solution to imbalance is to meet
head-on the workpile. Nothing like an obligation to chase bread for
clarifying raison d'etre. "So there," were his exact words. And I
bought them.
Do you consider yourself radical, do you consider yourself sensitive,
what label would you put on gender (yours) for purposes that we consider
(ours)
__________________________________________________
ENCRYPTION
Wood seemed to mean something. I prefer a cover for the floor to foster
integration of the accidental soil that oftens there. Likely brought by
Magi on their focus visit to discern one tiny thing. My lower back feels
lower than it's felt in days. A neighbor who uses illness as a point of
linkage asks how my arthritis is. I discourage any inference that my
case equates to even half a case. For I'm in general a pillar of good
fortune and good health. Each night about this time there is a knuckle
cracking sound that's centered on our rooftop as though someone pressed a
foot into a brittle part. Now there is a man shouting directions to the
night. For a moment, I turn down the air-conditioning. His voice
ceases; I begin to chill the room again. My sentences that used to be in
shards like being spoken whole. The matter of them teaches in whole
language. A teacher accidentally of my acquaintance typically preempts
the other half of conversation and lies down beside her own soliloquies.
When it is dark, the rumor parses everything we know. Offers a string of
intervention so the supplicants will easily quintuple in the daytime.
Factor in the earnest-seeming ones who come at night to edges and request
to have bequeathed to them unreasonable fractions.
Hardwood floor versus a soft place to lie down
__________________________________________________
SOMETHING TO SHOW
I heard her youthful skin go gray. It was a brilliant afternoon that
seemed to last a whole birthday. I withdrew as typically I do, sensing
the comparative worth of learning hurt. Leaned back into my cocoon and
thought ahead. The walls felt handmade, so the question I would pose was
_are they to be trusted_. People allege that no one can predict timing.
I'm not sure that I agree. Basic psychological indicators show on the
same page. What a comprehensive offering. I noticed she invested in a
lid atop her productivity, not a pleasant hat. But could not become
infectious in my segment of the room. How do you not become friends
easily. The duration of relationships has been the length and width.
Whatever happened to the institutions we were taught to have admired. We
would have not a wink of room to talk or touch. Unwanted on both sides,
the treason behind fears.
Piercement, placemat, sponge, the premised reputation cast like
worthwhile dice onto a decorative table of old wood
__________________________________________________
KEENING WITH AN A
Keening with an _a_ was what he did intuitively to the point that
inhibition had a transfer in its hand that pickled inclination (some of
me). Least sum of squares perfuncts its way into a shadow's crash part.
_Ask for authenticity_. Be granted bag of rocks. Humidity comes closest
in the weather realm to lust. Don't hold against me my affordable young
midline. I suppose you'd call this leafless wilderness my middle age.
Possession is a fraction I can't quite remember. Passion's do-able. Who
names this software (Quark). Words such as _evidence_ tone down my
feeling. So neglect resides against some slivers coarsening the green
enamel of a park bench. I like to be outside but not without my shirt.
We are quite spoiled in the Southwest where if you happen to adore the
heat there's no such thing as punishment.
Canary flesh, rose zones, parchment drying on the midline
__________________________________________________
THE RALPH IN EACH OF US
Warmups welcome the plate glass of me known as intensity in our
relationship. I do combouts but not for free. Settle for guest bed
analysis free-thrown in dragnet moss. I promise not to use the word
weave. If you'll equally deliver curves in firm grasp of the city (morph
and kiss). I'm using words that do not patronize. Rubricity comes
closest to salvation in the whittled hills. Dance rubber bands back into
habitats. The Ralph in each of us is evidenced by touch ups the
photographer forgot. Ralphette. Ralphine. How predisposed need we be
to mandatory gender floss to twiddle the expected pink or blue dichotomy
before the faces of the lambs wearing merely curtains it is said that God
assigned. Yea verily the silver comes to blest things: semitect,
adroitness, loam, and threnody.
Cause control, perfunctorily arranging things taken for granted, flows
with energy all through them
__________________________________________________
GRAVESTONES
Digits partly cooked will resurrect as if to set the whole (meta)
establishment afire. Pensivity aloofs loom central phosphate you might
striate farmfully. Acumen's a spate, a flurry with duress in tow.
Things that destroy grow thin before the damages sequestered in new
rooms. Drum cakes divide one isthmus from another. Skills meant to be
tangible release themselves from situations. Victuals seed wash along
the line. All falsehood long, the judge patched calls from continents.
The lemon that she brought made juice to die for as the lingo goes.
White boots, a breath mark sky, some riddles past the point of homing.
Cement in its soft state is fleeting, useless as the place lines will be
painted when a craftsman gets around to it. The maze of easels fails to
interfere with a rose's elasticity.
Blinders on our favorite horses, all bets off
__________________________________________________
REFLEX
We split plyboard one-handedly each one of us while talking a consecutive
demeanment. I grew tired of hearing him forget ensemble. Having learned
the weight of the fedora's equal to the total weight minus the weight of
one man previously wearing the fedora (this same). _Having approached
the masterminding of half horsepower disposal while a ratings war is on_.
He thought himself the soloist of expertise, ignored grammarians as kind
old feed alerts with motherboards about to be replaced. Playing the
market by name against a lofty instinct's ever ripening.
Jump starting a vehicle not one's own, vicarious alignment, process
service
__________________________________________________
FLESH
Beebonnet's earthly symmetry bereaves elastic. How to capture market
share is to infect the soul of the competitor. No virus needed. Tell
some story that inspires fear, and watch spines wrinkle to lifeless blue
balloons. I don't like talk's evaporative affirming rosychill all
through the otherwise penned weather. She won't converse without her
infancy imbued in conversation. Won't memorize self worth. But will
chime in on the existing tales, the quarantined noon brawls so they're
unlikely to perspire the first deserved cash royalty and swashed main
lace of thick and thin dichotomy. The earth lanes silver us ahead of
dormitory style ketosis, all ones alert to styles and their antithesis
the miles ahead to have been walking.
Normed answers, how they look inclined, eternally green eyes
__________________________________________________
AN INABUNDANT SPINE
Slouch occurred parentally. The children saw no reason to first guess an
inabundant spine. Some field of lavender might put a soul to hours of
sleep. Distinguishing intention from desire. Throttled words of a
rejection she is not aware of. Firefly in a corner, putty in her eyes.
Shelf muting the small dolls with a net to breeze them out of here so
something new can be created. _Voulez-vous_ (myopia) the closer to
caress (my dear). Dependent on the depth of prior injury.
Closeup, share draft, pinking shears
__________________________________________________
TREASON-TOED
Out of context everything looks good. Onions, inclemency, rotundas.
Whipsaw mercy, yodeling. A manufactured friendship operatta milestone.
Rubricity enflowers pasty nuns (how would it seem to be alike). Siphoned
intrusion, forensified wide lute as warm as stippled mill tax. Actuarial
tables pressed to my chest, your chest, her chest. Gender needs no
eyesight. Fortify fuss-budgetly the aftermath of no-show. Trap me in my
own words (of our making). Literate new swells advancing cause in
_miserere_ overtones. The organist was clobbered by insistent sprinklers
en route to the off-key church. Her letter said she shoulders things.
She basks. She rub-a-dubs accord when geeks leave limericks along her
doorstep with a whippoorwill to dandle like a hive homespun.
Semantitude, foxglove, decision point of our own making
__________________________________________________
WORLD FLOW
Paint justice on the timpanum to weed the scales of their beleaguered
homily fort blue. Lace lovely, sly, and intuition-charmed like lanes
come-to. Where worlds from here sopranos light upon the gilt-safe paint
so we'll enjoy the house. What tiny fingers you have Martined onto for
the neck of this guitar. I wonder who has carried a harmonic pursed and
laved. Ivy demonstrates its breeding sanity in nectar words or less. My
body scant with shivering what makes a nest a nest. Brianna was her
name, a chemotherapeutic twinge. Hypotheses on long walks typify _do
lunch_ attentions. Lips precipice our blond brick femur. Claustrophobic
in a seven-fold pronunciation of the dowry broken into elements reputed
to comprise a world.
Creased into a car that really runs, a game of dominoes, a record of who
won
__________________________________________________
TIME(TABLES)
Remaindering sofas my cupboard wealth, yin-yanged squeeze-toyed across
from musty satchels elephants and combs (write with me soldier free-based
match points of eternity's cool lisp of intellection shuffled like new
breast of card stock foddering the length of temple sheet-rock blither
comb. I want I want I cover purl cream corn accommodating dream of
drastic measure sleeve bend comb immodesty's surf level caveat with
plenary indulgence where a throat would be. Come leave cadaver of us
chilled behind the dress mock parcel out accordion in lessons (what is
nice about the _ought_ in things is definition moved away from
fractioning.
Eclair for starters, change around the sequencing, first undress
__________________________________________________
A HOLIDAY
Independence muffles sly wash on the wear to corner-lot my sequel of
long-practiced differences. _Remainder me_, she huffed into her
doorframe. Pillow oughtness dignifies modalities of past performance,
quasi shuffle, logjammed moderati. All new berry cusp, the wayward lea
is bunched like socks. And hemorrhage decides to fast a good long
wrinkle in the way of tomboy features fine and tweed and comma-spawned.
When listlessly in love with present tense one feeds one's inner
oligarchic sponge the expectations littered near sea-based triath- where
folks alleged to love come rattling into new awareness, lipperware. And
such good grooming fortifies from blueprints safe within public domain.
Places no one thought to look, the act of an erasing, sockets and the
issue placement
__________________________________________________
ETERNITY
Your hand with the 82 dollar ring I gave you in the seventies equalling
relatively thousands stays as we god-givenly remain surrounded by night
air rehearsing all the way to morning light the petit four of nest
mentality. If I redeem you I have clothed myself in cellophanic forms of
light. Those of us taught to be working have convinced ourselves an
honest day of life is worth an honest splinter of an occupation that
lives on in its small celebrated pieces mid-air Brandenburg through
speakers a priori same integrity runs through our parlor, common to the
tube socks and tuxedo atmosphere. My want is just the no fly zone of
suffrage as it was defined in little items where no cable has been run.
Tumult as a partially descriptive word enlivening the hemisphere and
caulk around the edges we encamera to our suddenly long-lasting lives
__________________________________________________
SNAIL MAIL
Posse of handmade love that you can read curves in extra dry blue ink no
longer washable, a little on your jeans the way a spirit feels with touch
to add to tryst cared for and manicured directly from the body years of
spirit's evidence of challenge and caress, the struggle 'tween resistance
and support the whole matter ethereal as tangibly the market shares and
shares alike oceans of trail blazing feats commiserato on the salty shelf
innumerable chefs once there.
Subscription to a magazine, a paper trail, the longing that occurs in
nature
__________________________________________________
The System
Veritas shames politics into belief for show. Portfolios drag icons from
embedded source lake mantra after mantra of economy, a Saturday with fill
dirt all the suffering enraged father to detoxify the body from the
heart. Beautiful father. Beautiful trained pet me.
Short sleeves under a dress suit until it grew so warm...
__________________________________________________
TWO URGES
His agenda looks embarkive and sustained misindications to their mother.
Poverty backfills on-time sleep. Periodontal germ warfare, something
ominous to crack your hard drive more than alter ego, is a cache to make
whole distance between pet care and jalopy. Circumstance breeds surface
gentry past the length of combs. Surrounds the apparatus with blood
sugar and alleged imbalances. Where these two pulses came from, I mean
urges, I formed people who were slivers of myself. It's obvious their
stares were waltzed alike. I saw them glide in what I thought was
unison, be broken, dabbled with, estranged.
Interrogation as a process, an addiction, definition of a self
__________________________________________________
VARIATIONS
Medical indulgence pierces lollygag, so anymore a fire is not a thing to
mention. Preach goes numb with foyer toothaches. Glib purls, knitted
brows for long walks tempesting our smooth calves' liver on the
continent. Served prawns and veto power. Animals are treat germs we can
high five in our summer sleep. The kindred icing on the cake is to have
midnight dotted swiss few cars and meadows near the favorite cot.
Melange shows too much white against the surface in the sprawling frame.
Was it myopia or simply gabardine left wanting. Human skills keep
showing they amount to everything. Possession of a cup of coffee and
some basic clues to the alarm out back. Formica slices to remember eras
by, when we were unprepared for figments of the everything we claim to be
today.
Gentrification process, color photographs, weaving the distances between
segregated nouns
__________________________________________________
SCORCH
Thebes crossed swords it's rumored, so go last if you can bear the silt,
and I will warm your ever ready yarn approaching the yell festivals.
That endear us to the throats' design near treetops in the soffit mood of
see-through fortresses. The better to be sanguine with your decibels, my
drear. We saw the catacombs. We walked the arbor lanes. We treated
selves unheard of to emotive linguists in the habit of design flaws
better for worse tantrums. Mild dichotomies brand-named soft if you
illumined flavor with a floss to ride across the kingdom (mine) intaglio.
The broiler a lost cause.
Crimson lanes, a form of repetition, faced by the surprise of someone's
maxing out the schedule
__________________________________________________
PLAINSONG
Cool litres of imbuances reciprocate curved lines. No longer afternoon,
the power alive and throttling some conflicting urgencies. A mother and
a son respond to the abundance as though there were no rigor,
limitations, or forensics. Where a tattoo would be, he's laced the
insecurities to seem intentioned. Myocardial's a word that neither uses.
Out the window, scenery and rapidly moving fresh air trespass by. A
painting in somebody's head drifts toward the forefront after paintings.
The one more loved has left the frame. Sculped to power by virtue of
beholding. Rarely do they cross creeds. Ballast crumbcakes its way out
of relationship. They settle in the wear of what they've known.
Pondering injustice as they've known. Semiautonomous as riddles are.
Baked slyly in the name of whole grain futures. Dependable, illusive,
bronzed through repetition.
Portraiture, as moving as a text, revolving door, dissemblances
__________________________________________________
SHORELINE, TRAFFIC
Philosophy presumed to be the girl next door. Trading indices presented
as vanilla not all bland. Some of the impression made in colors traded
places with the movement of some traffic in the middle of the hedge. Pale
blades rotated hives along supremacy. A full-flown frost to meld with
summer in a hasp of dimly colored valse starting with "v." Trees
touching across the road taken for granted.
Insomnia, these premises within a format heretofore unrecognized
__________________________________________________
THE CHEMISTRY OF WAR
That there is more than one of him occasionally comforts me. One who
gentlemans my path retains his high regard and bookmarks anger somewhere
I don't think to read. Another stays away, as though I am a human weapon
with invective toiling in the summer grass. One more of him is
motherless, confines me to the recognition every moving part is glass.
See-through identity that creases one whole sheet of the addendum.
Chemistry between, perfect in symmetry. Within another life we'd dance,
but here the boundaries wash out immodest differences. How do we know
each other in familiar darkness. If by vision and not touch, personified
by blades held back, instructive as the wild blast furnace never keeping
to itself.
Hands with worth in them, full blend of blades and sanctions
__________________________________________________
SIMILE
Palaver keys in formed affection. He was different ages in the dream.
Adopted margins, colored in discrepancies to mean political invective.
Row of objects in the morning different from a row of the specifics
painted in the afternoon some form of bronze. Tell tale affection. She
allowed the body to have spoken a known language taught by weather or a
film emerged to trace the boundaries between earth and skin. Whatever
touch was there, intoned affection. Full barometers walled their
findings in the semiautomatic blossoms that refused to wilt. Gathered by
breathing. He would have thought her politics...but slowly, gesturing,
he moved his preferences to slim the space between the window and the
frame.
Tangibles cross protective lines, the skin as we have known it, parcels
recollection
__________________________________________________
CUE CARDS
They spoke of violence as though it were a hobby or a choice. Within
another sphere, grenades escaped no one's attention. Impoliteness ceased
its understated quality. The blatancy of horns regressed the human
spirit. It was hypthetical and comfortable within the living room
neglect of truth. Where pictures pasted globules on the rent wall suited
to a mosque trade. Speed demons no longer comprised humor of a phrase.
Whoever balked became apprenticed. Crescent lines moved towers. There
was land to bake, and there were threesomes vitual and pronged. Dementia
let go qualities we would have liked to zero out from prior victuals, but
who was counting the presentia.
Trespass, mourning, empty jar
__________________________________________________
DIAL TONE
Risk seemed sexual, unthinking, taken prior to my speaking in a language
unfamiliar to named skin. What was the resilience trying to be worked, I
asked myself. There is no leaning into body warmth, no shame, no
cardboard box, no certainty. To paint a reasonable morning, I configured
obligation and immersed myself in what appeared a lightened version of
the trespass. Wild rice, furnace, time of apparition. Ice sculpture "I
saw it with my own eyes, honest..." urgent as desire for miracles.
Curved pelt near wheat, the surface glow's immaculate inherency.
Treason, neighbors who do not speak (volumes), certain dissimilar repair
__________________________________________________
WASHING ON THE PRETTY LINE
I'd like this hive configured for the Olivetti, please sir, perfect for
my thumbs. The crescent lipwear bottling up indifference the same
centrigrade as all the worthy time zones in our sphere. There are roster
fees to build upon, and scales to leverage shade trees and their
valences. The shoelace portion of our program sees the dust accumulation
near the fiber climb down furniture and speed traps. Homilies won't work
the numbers. Silence thumbs its way clear to the park and back to what
you think is home in your own words. I'd like to merchant my way
forward, not be littled here in slide trombone capacity with
battery-dependency and tales to tell. Besotted lives are dearthy in the
nearby window. See the plain wide booths with the reputed merchants
drinking coffee. Not one of them unless you live here has been named
apology. Create one, says the priest, and live a better form of thriving
in the dreamful haze of washing on the pretty line, the atmosphere of one
redemption at a time.
Lozenge after lozenge, some particulars, routine the way my offering
congeals after a fashion
__________________________________________________
FAITH
Embroidery once kissed me. Divinity's inherent, not a sluggish fling
with ossobuco. Merely chaliced inflow vectors, calling card
paraphernalia. Massage retains fair market value for the Agamemnon in us
all. Never telephone me with redundant fill dirt. I've too many things
to mind abidingly. Snow cone for starters. Yellow craft on blue sea
water, a resultant green paler than shamrock. Relentlessly, air purifier
works its way into our kickstand hearts to try and cauterize years of
causality. Prerequisites for parenthood include self knowledge and
eccentric brands of sanity contagious to the touch.
Ice water will be fine, relief in the first person
__________________________________________________
NOT THE SINGLE NOTES
Monks continue singing like a salve. The men outside install a drainpipe
to avert the downpour funneled just above my door in the infrequent hours
that rain occurs. Phone calls interrupt what might be happiness in
someone else. I'm in here hiding from the world smelling the incense of
imaginary churches trying to preserve my faith. Plainsong needs no
compass and no flavor. _Not the single notes but their continuance_. My
each day practices its mattering in front of the ongoing test tube.
Maybe when I'm tired I will be happy to lie down. This week intended to
be just the miracle we have awaited turns out on Monday to be stinging.
I'm not available to perform errands your province. Nor am I awake to
your considered jamboree replacing deep connective tissue. There are
sufficient thoughts to think. _Only dysfunction teaches_. My each day
devoted to the fixing. She projects what the repair person must know
without attempting to absorb it. A pretty quiet atmosphere impacts the
slimness. Copy me on shadow mercy for a time. Errors practiced turn out
to resist correction. Fluid as they seem to be, there's plenty evidence
of the intractible.
Commencement at this time of year and recollection of the melody
__________________________________________________
A-NOTE
Sheila E. Murphy's book manuscript LETTERS TO UNFINISHED J. was selected
in this year's open poetry competition sponsored by Sun & Moon Press, and
will be published by Sun & Moon. Dennis Phillips was the judge. Falling
in LOVE FALLING IN LOVE WITH YOU SYNTAX: SELECTED AND NEW POEMS has just
been released by Potes & Poets Press. Recent works include A CLOVE OF
GENDER (Stride Press, 1995). Murphy's work has been widely anthologized,
most recently in FEVER DREAMS: CONTEMPORARY ARIZONA POETRY (The
University of Arizona Press, 1997) and THE GERTRUDE STEIN AWARDS IN
CONTEMPORARY POETRY (Sun & Moon Press, 1994, 1995). The Contemporary
Authors Autobiography Series recently brought out an autobiography of
Sheila E. Murphy, including photographs of Murphy with family and
friends.
Sheila Murphy co-founded with Beverly Carver and continues to coordinate
the Scottsdale Center for the Arts Poetry Series, now in its eleventh
season. Murphy is President of the management consulting firm Sheila
Murphy Associates. Since 1976, she has made Phoenix, Arizona her home.
Murphy can be reached by e-mail at Shemurph@aol.com.
__________________________________________________
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