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/obtainable & reduced to fake
surfaces deleted
empty stomach sacked
forensics arrive to recover the space i
quietly the boundaries occupy themselves
framed
being fluid &
abrupt
axehead butterflies dreamed
urban numerical the town’s reference
a map animated w/ panic
raw anxieties fuel the correspondences
history and the artist strike again
his brush found now here on the intersection
? delicate & lukewarm footsy across eggshells
out on to black drag manacled slabs funereal
if he does not lie in time this shale sky will not admit miracles
even blue not option
the plot flourishes in stale yellow
you can get used to it yodelling
hot air in the throat
the wires whistle softly so news gets thro
(this is not an america
his painting inspired a fake arch
& nothing could be further from the light we are running
out of
somewhere close soldiers are laughing
or else wishing for a blue space to cry in
this position has been located
here among the axed butterflies
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