Dan Raphael
Locked door in the middle of the living room
Part of my neck replaced with a fresh board
My diminished turning radius
Missing the balance of a 3rd leg
Nothing above I can hold on to
Like a butterfly on a windy day
A mirrored car in a lightning storm
No one wears much iron anymore
If I condo-sat on the 21st floor I wouldn’t come down for days
What does rain smell like before it falls
Sleep demands a costume, as the idea of armor came from carp
We can’t hear the stars cause sound is so much slower
One finger for each chamber of the heart, but why a thumb
Not traffic or barking, a framed sound