collecting nails and noodles
Food stuff for dream rats that find cracks in maps to hide in.
Sun’s back. Universed like water.Rehearsed with Moon, part of one.
Tuning with each turn pruning seasons.
She’s on to burn words to fish guts and spread pigeons
like seeds into flour dust
Sour metal earns rust.
Our metal urns rust.
The process of pulling water from wild space.
Strand by strand, stick by stick
Bottled water from Fiji.
school is not authentic
we make our own music
A canvas. Paint. A microphone.
let me quote the lyrics
Of all the tried projects
that tired hands and sore eyes forgot
I rejected this,
in the background of eyelids