This absentee stand-in for the stand-in sun saves each wild breath each dragnet melody bent across the floor the leaden lake we left so green trucks out the formerest of my bloodletter sighs in malleable dust devils and fear will have me in all the letters of our woodchipped bed. *
My want is to care about the ways I want to care about. To take off your samizdat scruff and hush my nothing in the hush of your nothing.
Those are our choices, imping toward stasis.
To be young and express a chair doing most of the talking. Would you believe the heath is more beside you than this?
A common anomaly or some shit bird customs.
Mining for white noise, I’ll show you my road rash white cartilage. I’ll ask you into a game of dark darts, which is just darts in the dark. We’re not here to read the sea within the sea.
We spill white spit from our cheeks and lips when we trip in the white stone shit ditch.
Do you wake up in the yards after a whiteout night on the tracks? How is your sheep blanket so bloodlessly white? Pieces of white leaves and animal matter will settle on top of the loam soil.