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Museum of Distance a Zone 3 Press Book by Ashley Seitz Kramer

Museum of Distance

Even doubt is difficult, heated

slowly, cooked to softness, made

to sink in on itself, close around

its own emptiness, a pumpkin’s only

trick. But isn’t it somewhat obvious?

The candle wants to be a flower

lighting the porch, the flower wants to be

a small blue bird, and so on.

What you hear in your room

at night while you’re wanting to be

your own plot of soft grass

is the world working around you—

it’s quite a diligent machine!

You suspect it of telling many lies.

Yes, you are doubtful, sell

everything too cheaply, practically

give the world away, plastic cup by cup.

The chips of golden paint flaking off

that trophy are more embarrassing now.

Is it any wonder the world can’t trust you?

Can you hear it breathing heavy

when you open the desk drawer of sleep

and you startle it by singing wake up, wake up,

   this is how we tell a truth? Can you hear

it breathing now, climbing the stairs,

loosening its diamond-patterned tie,

the one you hate and try to hide,

the one that makes you dizzy?

Museum of Distance a Zone 3 Press Book by Ashley Seitz Kramer

Museum of Distance

Even doubt is difficult, heated

slowly, cooked to softness, made

to sink in on itself, close around

its own emptiness, a pumpkin’s only

trick. But isn’t it somewhat obvious?

The candle wants to be a flower

lighting the porch, the flower wants to be

a small blue bird, and so on.

What you hear in your room

at night while you’re wanting to be

your own plot of soft grass

is the world working around you—

it’s quite a diligent machine!

You suspect it of telling many lies.

Yes, you are doubtful, sell

everything too cheaply, practically

give the world away, plastic cup by cup.

The chips of golden paint flaking off

that trophy are more embarrassing now.

Is it any wonder the world can’t trust you?

Can you hear it breathing heavy

when you open the desk drawer of sleep

and you startle it by singing wake up, wake up,

   this is how we tell a truth? Can you hear

it breathing now, climbing the stairs,

loosening its diamond-patterned tie,

the one you hate and try to hide,

the one that makes you dizzy?

Museum of Distance

Museum of Distance a Zone 3 Press Book by Ashley Seitz Kramer

Even doubt is difficult, heated

slowly, cooked to softness, made

to sink in on itself, close around

its own emptiness, a pumpkin’s only

trick. But isn’t it somewhat obvious?

The candle wants to be a flower

lighting the porch, the flower wants to be

a small blue bird, and so on.

What you hear in your room

at night while you’re wanting to be

your own plot of soft grass

is the world working around you—

it’s quite a diligent machine!

You suspect it of telling many lies.

Yes, you are doubtful, sell

everything too cheaply, practically

give the world away, plastic cup by cup.

The chips of golden paint flaking off

that trophy are more embarrassing now.

Is it any wonder the world can’t trust you?

Can you hear it breathing heavy

when you open the desk drawer of sleep

and you startle it by singing wake up, wake up,

   this is how we tell a truth? Can you hear

it breathing now, climbing the stairs,

loosening its diamond-patterned tie,

the one you hate and try to hide,

the one that makes you dizzy?