[from : the Loss Lieder]
time is trone to
tantamount as then there
the world’s gone fishing,
a leap in the candle eye century
log out is the speed rap
handle flattening
time’s a drone meter read
in a squint snow-light flow a-cling patch
time is wick as in wax
a lit flick needing
against all bouncing a
planet aches into happen settle hounding
time is whip to manage
psycho colors in sodium
arc light fling a grudge: to
match then whack that emptiness
time’s logging on as
chromium unoxidizing a wake in which
a stream slipped and fed
into your river
.. ...time ignores a slab to poise at the
over-covered door sequence
moving rack simmer look
over where
time is mammoth to profit:
that sea flows into the
woods ape & staggering lugs:
home-territory march over
down-facing in rip
time squashes each loss,
or boss
{not yet flying by the
hung neck
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