One thousand loose ends to be tied
Not one am I willing to cut
A weathered sailboat defeated by the bluff
engraving landscapes into vinyl
The clang of voices are a comfort to the long, painful drawls of shadow people clinging to the peeling halls. As I propel each leg beyond the next casting my weight forward I think of how the lie of balance works within these walls.
stay up late and dismantle the silence.
I want to invent a new kind of food. Is that too lofty?