Here, the unburnt stubble used to be wet rushes. It still floods. The good pink lip brought to a cup. Drink it and drown out the dying. Inside another reach: something could give way, and the digging starts all over again, sucks its thumb. What renews itself: regret? The postlapsarian tongue? A flight of huskies grinds to a halt. My aunt is coming, she will not miss the train. Better take the clouds for granted than murder drought with silver.
Mountain after mountain. A city crumbles while you wait. For the tractors or the war? There is after all the same silence at the end of a long feast, however we come to. The meaning of a score effervesces in play, not the lost baton, the racket, the tempered drum. Come now, spread them. The wise fool, the six of taboo, the seven of longing. Look, under the table, the gutter. Step over and you miss the jewels dropped by kings. How did we arrive, in a chariot of stars? Since then, every no we fold and keep in our mouths. We swim carrying logs, we drown adorning them.
Tide. Vessel. Muck. Flower. Too many sideway glances, not enough teeth-sinking. Did he see a lion or a boar? The one that sells, that can be bought. Imagine painting a canvas, not having to buy ink. Draw sylvia, ask her why she wanes. That red flag another colourful excuse. Should be planting roses with every one small step. Heat up some nails, anchovies, bread. So what a little sailor’s salt, almond milk, barley, provided the ale is fresh. Look to the ones who leave a clean plate. Who goes hungry? There's your sauce.
When the heart is not enough it finds another room. Water does this. Traffic slows for rain. Let the tangled roots come and teach you sprawl, moral substitution, efficiency: every weed leans towards the ungraspable. In time fingers write their own music whether or not they are slender. Breathe. Make your own gravity, pull down sunlight. It takes longer than years to cross the door.