essay 364 : a rash mode
here we are
in the years, or uh, the letters
the stanzas
ashtrays down
by the lake
is that
inmate, or intimate? the molecule used
for
metalworking
slip at the
side-stream
on
waking, it was midnight with a cool
breeze
dawn’s
beginning to shape up
in the whap!
a fever times
space as it rushes by
down in the
cold
mine, working with an unpicked ax
across the
documents there are
variations on
square blocks
of words on fire
& that
constitutes
reality .. et set, … a rah!
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