and the night breeze was like a half-remembered book about wild boys named after horses who die in the middle (who well know of such things.)
you banked the median HARD like the worst kind of skipping stone
and spat a small bullet of gum out at the ******* pickup on the other side of the road.

the 58% waning moon, cocked
like leaning one arm way far out the window .
the shed petals and leaf-buds hailing downwards from swaying canopy-archways into somewhere new /
pelting the windshield like softly homing drone-strikes upon the cool, black and yellow world.

when you had to take out the ©0₱ for his gun, a quick knife-draw cut away the body cam and went in hunt of dashboard tendons after finding his driverdoor unlocked.

-you filed down the numbers and naively measured the clinking paperweights shaken loose from the clip with calipers for later reference : to make sure you ordered the right ones when they ran out.

she cried

and cried
that night,

the getaway was clean.

the night air was
Perfect.

for just a [world’s-ending] longer

and the sand ripples with approach / in a story about the origins of a land



Possession v. Belonging/ left in the stairwell


an unclaimed thing : the nature of pantheon, revealed.

we’re all nan goldin now
and all the little microbial worlds will
devour us
from inside out


even just as they as are now

say                                                  ch

a                                                        e
n    ­                                                    e
g          ­                                              s
e.               ­                                        e.

too special and not special enough

go do something better and talk to me in about 5000 years when we chance by eachother in some deep pit of whatever next hell welcomes us so openly