spittle

when i close my eyes
visual grid grind absorbs into my body
i become the night sky
lines of neon steam exhaust
feathered movement
nothing is clear
fuzzy

bananas

skin is no where

yes

there is no where

i see heat cannot feel one another

ive lost my voice

little birdie singes

ive lost my voice


and it sounds like screeching and i know im in not the best care

oh oh well
in the best care! not my own
hands of an angel!
cloud

while they wait in the hot hot heat

hear them
in the a/c manufactured calm

hear them in the boxes inside on top of boxes

find some confidence that

the anima is alive while sufferring

waiting for you to leave comfort for fortune
the fortune of allowing animals outside by the side of the road
to die or live by some feathered gift and luck

hands of the angel!
cloud

hands of the knobby kneed boy in the sky who makes stars with his scars
and skateboard marks

hands of the angle!

when i close my eyes
a ribbon wraps it up
wraps my tongue and a bow on top
a present for my present.

a node for my knot.