And you in mind through all the apple rings the unseen villains ever-carboned into other
leaves the distant notes interminably arriving – their tonics splaying outward over table
runners echoing the chiming the nothing talk in the attempts to mop it up…
In the attempts to leave the thing alone for once, as was or would be:
fragmented or illusory, an illiterate incapable of articulating — in the attempts
I came silken almost survived the onslaught
this sadness is never the ocean I expect it to be but having reached one layer
soon find others – nothing seeking a name.
And you’re standing.
The way a wave unworks itself into not enough water. I am thinking of the time
when. It doesn’t matter. I am thinking of that too
of the time when it doesn’t matter. Hurry.