which are all in your head, I think
trailing ectoplasm, sluicing the burbs
while cutlery clanking in drawers cries
hold me
so the porter, the door, the nervous
fruit loop dreaming never quite reaching
the parade ground
(though there are benefits
in mortality, you found it not such
a clever trick) the scene select loop (and
sure there are other loops,
like the blind snaps up, the beautiful
lumen
the milk of lumin
osity)
saying rap
idly her
ovaries one two one two one
craning the sky
the daynight never stops