I. Le Bateleur

 

Every defensive leap forward, with the axial tilt of the magician’s rod,
Seasons never start on time. Forgotten after the weather breaks,
Here is the released kite of a reply—Why, as if conscripted from other
Dimensions; and inwardly convinced it was necessary to risk comminuted
Tibias, the dramatic jump from a ground-floor window? One infers lacunae—
Resuming possession of the years. Among their number, an intramedullary pin,                                                                  

Stays inside your bone forever—It counteracts bending, an intramedullary pin.
The irreparable feeling wears exactly the same way; as if inflicted by a dictator’s rod,
Far less commenting on that preparatory phase of beauty accommodating lacunae,
Or alternating impertinence—One cerclage wire, alone, may act as a fulcrum at the break.
Usually irksome, deciding from the beginning, this is the violence done—The comminuted
Contact by which we understand one another. Unavoidable perhaps of any other

Of one’s class, yielding to seduction requires another limb count; Eyes of others—
Our prisms. Think on tibial lengthening, and the placement of intramedullary pins.
Then, the external fixators—For myself, I can do nothing more; visual purple rods

Blanche beyond the shades of earlier days. So much impedes entry into that comminuted

Grove of the retina—I am a terrible judge of height, yet I turn sideways to the breakers.

Instead of meeting things head on, and risk entrapped nerves, your infill of lacunae

Is encouraged—Convinced of the endless chord of life, like the ripples in lacunae

A magician’s instant deeds are followed by threats—This grounding of others

Washes alternately over the remodeling skeleton—Hewn to bare necessity, unbreaking.
Otherwise, for what are these exercises in falling? To warrant intramedullary pins?
Estimates of mineral stress and measured intake consent that you palp comminuted
Bits of the wrist as offerings, wear acromion lapels, trace the reinforcing rods

Of clavicles, and brandish anatomical snuff boxes—If only to hint at the lightning rods
When a certain shadow falls on your face; sets the bark scrolls alight—Curious lacunae
Of my past include a misidentification of the functional unit of compact bone; comminuted
Later into memory as the osteon. Time spent swapping slides makes one credulous of others
Anchored in languorous outposts of their lives. I accord much with intramedullary pins—
The hammering into down to a pocket of rock, which later grows around it; breaking

The skin is minimized. Qanats of the femurs replenish the blood; all is subjected to a break
Even analysis—Assays of the maturity levels of the marrow are taken without a boring rod,
For a glad flow of precursors—Fracture fragments set very exactly with intramedullary pins.
If the sum of these perceptions gnaws one’s heart, then sinuses are an example of lacunae
Concentrating billows of June’s mulberry trees, for my sake do I dare mention the others.
Yet a trapped bird’s one thought—Feather-light and fused—Is the window, not comminuted

Minutes of flying precipitously too low—Breakouts such as these may achieve comminuted
Fractures—To answer your question, flinching from tamped intramedullary pins or lacunae
From which others’ echoes cried,  I still afford you some length of bone against your notched rod.