If I am wrong.
If I am wrong.
Woe,
for what is done must come undone.


The ash behind our eyes forgiving guesses, non-English.

Her hands never knowing if A will equal A.

There are few roads to find.
A camouflage repeats the mistake and the sun is brought flowers.

Your containers of teeth.
Or is it repetition I must break?
No longer must I take the ears from a Titan's form.
No longer will I peddle for cord so thin.
Not in this market's sandy square.
Be it a square, a river, a helix.
All shapes and all colors will to make brilliance in these eyes.
Under the ashen rain.
Not a sentence to file away.
I'm behind the faux steel cupboard.

The meek shall inherit the art.
A mob of sisters clutching grains as treasure.

Marriage license.
The smallest finger removed Darling.
Without grotesque wine.
Her ring sparkling, yes a note received.

I can take myself away from the falling away.

Why am I waiting to pull my lungs from the water?
Not nearly pale enough nor clean enough.
And the sun, it shines.
In the same brick school or something closer, more similar.
Stuttering or am I not?
Do not respond overwhelmed.
Something is different.
These are no the things I want to hear.
Give me that picture you carry.
Or just tell me I'm worth it.

Oh close jaw come unhinged.
Florida and its curve bring new friends, new debts.

Fully polished.
Fully formed.
Neither fully sworn nor finished.

Do we know all that's coming for us?
The perfection of your line shoulder.

My closest way to bleed without a scar.
Feel so pointless holding your air above me.
The spiraling of Earnhardt's plane.
Concrete grave broken open.

By morning, darker bandages.

Against the white I'll remain blue.
A sobbing Lord offers a swifter kick.
Not a friend to the art. Nothing found in lies.
There was so much there to remove.

Find ourselves with darker bandages by morning.
My words shake in the pointed forest.
The harder we sail.
The harbor for friends of man.

Wondering if I should continue engraving my name on these fables.
I should give up.
Or I will start.
I wait for the midnight to move.
Sleeping for her newest hour.
This point brings me no higher.
With this fortune I move every warlock in this world.
Pictures worth many words.
Letters not worth burning.
Over all the words, the few strikes of the storm.
Jumping from dilated memories.
This is enough erasing.

Monday to forget Sunday and Saturday.
Tuesday to plan Wednesday.
Thursday to remember Thursday.
Friday.

In the bathroom I polish my mirror.
Turning the hourglass wondering what I've lost.

"You've found nothing and so, you've lost nothing."

The voice of angel Death.
Heard only when I lose consciousness under bath water.
Rise again, search for God's scrutiny.
Wipe my eyes, blot my nose.
I fail to glimpse my siren.

Ah, a time to reflect.
A collection to publish.
A thought to be sharpened.
No.

Only words to be ignored.,