All blue awnings
man stands for myriad of anonymous nouns
something like far off voice
presumably an empty mountain becoming his own
invention, able to stand by itself (i.e. come where I am)
is the closest to first-person rather clutzy
shadowy moss reminiscent of Sanskrit forest trysts
(i.e. 19 ways of looking at you) on first stage
like the game of pretending to read (ideogram)
how to translate nineteen times you
sharpen in silence my three-eyed moth
opening lockets after everything’s stacked vertically
—
what were we doing middleway
crossed-finger
as though obelisks
stranded by hand.
Limestone &
Temperatura inside is one thousand°
It’ll be done in a couple of hours
It won’t break from heat
a part from this rush
comes & stops for some time
its blankness
just all of it
with a body
that also goes away
I feel benevolent
This is lovely.
