a face I wore before I wore this
a nostalgia-scented chemical whisper / silvering up the atmosphere
Two feathers / flitter out in cursive loops.
Look, then, and see / the roots of the sky.
Work and beware any love that’s jealous / of work
Certainly life / burned inside him.
A box under a desk with a breathing in it.
a syncopation / that can call down rain
whatever mistakes we made
What happens if I breathe / in from here?