fitting together like guns to a victim’s head:paving over holes in parched landscapes_and
parsing out factions in a divided populace

they are

finding and
braking

handholds

in the artificial rock wall
of
a
city made out of
pictures of cities.
selling
an exclusive virtue
made out of

want .


my

want
for us
       is otherwise.

you say, as
all of recorded history is
annihilated in favor of
quarterly growth


and in the coldopen, the sun rises over joggers
going nowhere .