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She says she thought about me this AM.
That would have been right when I was thinking
about how sick I am of this project.
How maybe all I need is a helper
to light it on fire, "the perfect plan."
Every computer, every location,
every page, every last person;
every article and accoutrement
of history, character, or attire:
burn it all. Every single thing gets wicked.
Each one of these thousand sources. Spare nix.
And burn the witnesses, and the witnesses
to the witnesses, greasy as lambs—
so the fire spits and zings in innocence.
published in Big Other