All these false endings. Nothing can (what’s a body, what’s a body to break up on): rocks, story of the buckeye butterfly’s eternal detail–I broke my abacus toting up your every spot dash & line darling.
Coordinated invasion “hold her head” Send you flowers on the eve of your departure The superior view sunders the walls that were You: what rules is lure of earth.
With your passport to the dream you can enter & depart * Well. This would have bored you already, murmur music, mystic tornado chasing– You’d yawn, asking, whose have I become? why do I work now in your dreams instead of my own. The making ephemeral: New York to London in 45 minutes– So much for… Read more →