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Jul 092011
 

by Alan Brit


I believe I live inside a nuance.

It doesn’t resemble

other people’s nuances,

clustered or otherwise.


Nuances strung like pearls

create a time piece

you could wear

across your chest

as a double X

and elicit

Moorish talents:

designers of Mallorca pearls

flickering like fireflies

in the fog.


In any case,

nuances transform

just that quickly,

as fresh rain

drips a fiberglass awning

tapping its opaque claws

against the rusty stomach

of a child’s

abandoned red wagon.