practitioner

cantilever, that is to hold
at arm’s length and
expect icicles, was it necessary
to divulge my
day

segue

brittle sternum     concavity
of interrupted dream

          sun

on noticing the lock of hair

the door peels

the small cracks

the eyes are complete

i wonder, i

shower shave

it is as true as i say it
in the morning the world spins faster.
it is the day it slows.

Cicero

is my formal
frame the carriage
return? there is no more carriage. the limit is
the vestige of defunct
machines, like train
tracks the
width of
roman
wagon
wheel
ruts uh!
et tu

wake

face w the problem
that every
thing said is
trivial or not
true. that
too. need less
to say