The leaves of the birch tree where crows build their nests were electrified and magnetized.— I saw a surge of ghostly bodies. I saw fireflies glimpse like small eyes of rats. I saw feathers dropping like bombs, littering the ground. I saw wings surge and flutter, ashen and apocalyptical. I saw cremated images, portraits, indeed. [...]
that’s enough now     I’ve had                      if there is standing in front of mirrors                         only here there is breathing in and holding             the way skin breathes lift that leg                                              thoughtless wait here and read this                     I would questionless                                       bury my head [...]
some futile thing that can’t be secured (attention or a plastic toy – does it matter?) he slams his bedroom door stands for a long moment before the goldfish bowl and knocks (a part of him, split off, will call it an accident, knowing it isn’t) the food container into the water – their small [...]
I arrive by way of mutiny. As second to the self’s captaincy I amend a creed in this squall. Slops of Councils wash from the tarred deck. This briny world is a fictive place I’ve never been outside a tale of grizzled tropes that signify fidelity of a kind, or otherwise. Everything’s [...]
