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Glen Armstrong

Once, as a child, Glen Armstrong saw a guy at the Detroit Zoo wearing a fringed vest and pants made out of an American flag. He edits a poetry journal called Cruel Garters.

The Bedside Book of Microdot

This is espionage,
not particle physics,

a poster on the wall reminds
me.

What I see

most likely

was intended, but events
such as these, in miniature,

blossom unpredictably:

The tittle starts to shimmer.
A thin blue halo
complicates the data.

A colony of snakes repair
their bodies as they smoke

theoretical cigars no lens
has yet observed.

In that tiny soap bubble

expelled from a word,

a probable here, a probable
there—a restart.

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