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Cellophane Reminders
A saint's out operating distant machinery
Across the tip delivered of her (often
It's) loneliness a burgundy cloud meets
irresponsible eyes you'll argue for basic
Celebration and 'confess? that I dream
You thought forever?' It's imagination
Swears its own approval with Chinese
Lanterns and music still caught up by
Proxy magnifying the light which leaves
The essay sulking forgive an alternative
Explanation concentrate on autumnal art
Which nocturne nothing can commandeer
Or burn I'm here belatedly to engineer
Erasure to take you curious to the brink
Inspection Zone
So I'll write your name if you write mine? no
you don't add distance with a brand new style
(I'm here to advise) you can think yourself up
into a brilliant constellation and no two ways
About it mirages in a word are plain enough
it's second nature most days you can find me
In if obliged to something disjunctive to cover
the facts no joy when discoloration sets us all
On edge I admit that 'doing lonely' isn't my
style and it's a slow job bleeding one thing into
Another it shows malfunctions at their worst
who knows who's running the show? you can
Tell a construct by the size of its smile! if I
catch high reolution in a word I'm signing off
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