Beware fallen cherries they are closed for hours ( Read more... )

waking, not waking was the same strength
the presence or absence
you were only trying to resolve the distance between acting like an adult and wanting a taste of sweetness

you wouldn't stop if rice flowing stopped
you would be an awkward shape
the concrete and the too sensitive R

your heart lay skeptically in toast.

Later, when they revived the carpet, it appeared to have been wounded by falling stars ( Read more... )

She knew the fires of the forest were in there somewhere, spent like frozen eyes in a seersuckers' place of rest, carried and forgotten. Under the marshmallows, or lying footprinted on a stair on a dusky April morning. Somewhere in the cubby-holes, in the master keys, was the canary in the lollipop, the stolen bicycle, the reason her heart stopped ( Read more... )

The cat no longer sleeps. I spend all night with equations, such that short literary bursts are all the static required to overturn my hips. The funny thing is, all I wanted was to talk with you for as long as possible. Everything is a literary problem. It's not that it can be phrased or conceived as a literary problem, but that it is at base a ( Read more... )

There was only one escape from the tangled oceans of marred strength. This was the thought in the beaver's open eyes, the casement of tears. It was the only chance of a future turned restless staring, a problem too much in advance. So he chased mentions of the addresses in forgotten stamps, the cold players dressed in obsolescence as he careered ( Read more... )

In flights of stairs there are arrows to your head.

On the way to upheaval

Practice falling a little, and you can see the gears relate to themselves in mandarin orange. The cool of the underside of the world.

There, there is the torture-keeper, the poor one, the mote.

A bowl in the air.

Is there only one sleeping fish? There, under the rafters in the morning. Only one to forgive and watch turn partially under the slow morning panic. Only one to wish for on Thursdays, and mechanic days after all. Only one of us to find huckleberries in the eyes of dead foxes, fixed in matching stones ( Read more... )

seven breaths of wren