Seeds of various fruit, some rarely eaten. As chance widens so skin alters and attention fixed. Scraps of litter, the propagation of sounds. Xylophone and oboe on ice. Fog horns. The baritone guitar. The headline dissolves our stitches. Wait for intermission. Play the cocktail glass. Ceaseless ringtail of impersonating tones.
I sang the light and watched the shadow. The hollow forms fiddle and bow – moving with some delicacy. How does one make primary use of red? To collect the preciousness of an inverse C. Until the crayons ran out of color. A gargantuan snag of me uphill. Supine on their backs an instrument with heads attached. The stars are out above the bivouac. Black and blue concern of similar pitch. It’s the fire we smote. Aghast.
In the living breathing singing then. A ceiling concludes six walls of comfort. Certain autistic features in the vast overlap. No taste of that old game.
I wore no hat to signal my deficit. The talk outside. The danger of words. Recall the quiver, some country lyric. My teenaged thought echoes back –dangers of an early image.
This time was then. Expelled until the unit L. The fury of forced closure a tool for vicious conduct. Stalemate of disconsolate autumn. My binaries become you. A sonic default.