bodies I noticed the folder contained within it another
transcript of a conversation recorded during a time
I was still believing the dream that I had woken up from
in the hayloft, little sunlets of denim-colored cottonwood
snow questing itself through the highway system of light
I stood up and looked down the ladder and the person
looked back up at me, an adult person with his confident arms
in the air holding a gun that was aimed at me and said whoa easy
and yes I had been easy, sure it was true
I had made hay when there was making-hay to do
the government is not a metonym here
it is what my father always called the vertigo of idiot
squirrels, their manila underbellies the color of the
folder labeled older bodies and within it a million
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folder labeled older bodies and within it a million
one day your face is gonna end up on a six dollar bill
I bought you a root beer at the Jesus extinction
and sometimes you just get born on the outskirts of (read:
under the eye of) intelligence, but end up in a gully anyway
pretending to be alive, so as to avoid, this is what possesses me:
the birdkey was designed for my personality in particular
it both is, and unlocks, the ornate room it forecloses
earthbound herds of crow devour your camouflage socks
you lose yourself in the superannuations of blue phlox
we have been planning your retirement for some time
and it has been nearly unbearable to see you go
outside when all of us are still inside and listening to
.wavs frescoes of whose waveforms arced the cathedral
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