the muse apprentice guild
--expanding the canon into the 21st century




SIX WORKS
BY AMY KING

WHAT WE CAN

Only memories erase
darkly-lit direct hits

Breaking the branches,
bats fly in low
etched wings trimmed

Your baby’s doll hangs
from the window black
grass grows nighttime hair

At its lowest, you notice
horizon’s elongated sight

And decree dawn's view
your poached sonar target

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EVAPORATION EQUATION

Ride the back of the bus,
I fail where I end
not removing hymn,
my back turns to bend,
they cut ceiling thin
caught stealing cures,
the border craft which
blank needles mend
my seamstress blessing
a probable portable sewing kit;
her kind of people thread stitched in

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ONLY THE SEA HOLDS

Just a short message to give you none too bad
lost in space water argentina
city of smoke-bound angels
pretending care spinster is
subscript, who takes the voice unremitted
by words’ bona fide canyon
more than ship’s brig anchor swears
of no value worth holding, sways
puppet eyes precious scene
sinks beneath plates split
at earth’s seams by quake illustration
from obverse telescope ghost writes
abbreviation names glue the whole
translation we seed perspective which
never stays on its locket chain
floats moon gravity donating cliche

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RECIPE RECEIPT

Emboss a bet or call a coin,
model written collage careerists
incarnate the phonebook;
a walking handheld wants
a good woman by the tip
of her tongue. Wishing well
sludge oil fills undeclared
place in America of good
men and paper nature paid
common cause holding hands
to the boiling light of pre-force
and script’s undercurrent practice,
having entered the white cross hall
as first or third person living
legend reveals her scaled-down key.

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ORGANISM

Bones of the train bend in
succession beneath your handchest
arching; heartbeats pass overhead.

Your posing translator rephrases,
“It’s brief in the long intuition ahead.”

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THE PAST LASTS

On one list once you
marked my question.

Evil stings.

Kindness means.

A past does not pass.