the mind’s eye is
the earth is one giant
I experience my determinacy
running away from me—
reality’s pixelation   static
a face in the moon

              I want to say that I love
I want to say that   a table
is not just matter
but a mirror                   withdrawing

                          (Tim1 believes all nouns
are verbs—
                          table: wood-for
                          chair: polypropylene-for
matter: materials-for
                          We are shrink-wrapped
in reality, he says.)
              What then is body   but a
              evenings   the sun sets   producing
              a period   of grayness 
                            would you consider that night
                            or day?   
              would you consider my illnesses
              of the:


             (please check one)
                          would you say
                              my sickness dreams?


1 Morton



Rachel Nagelberg is primarily a fiction writer based out of San Francisco. Recently she began listening to the wondrous albeit often disturbing calls of the poetic form, and has finally found a venue in which to explore sickness and the body with her ever-beloved tools of language and philosophical thought.

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