We take life for granted, it isn’t abnormal, nor easy—reaping conditioned crops.
Shapeless furniture, hardcore philosophic, anarchy.
Sweet wreckage. Out to seas, eating kelp, swimming aside whale bone.
Ebbing in & out of dynasties, closing screams, isolating. I peer out to see a daymare, too tremendous to negotiate.
Raven goth. Intrusive eyes. To a degree, & we knew life.
Like palming a pinecone, significance is perceptional.
Attaching it to life, unzipped inside, to imagine what life becomes. Hearts unmasked. Squalor rinsed. With days seeming uncomfortable.
Looking at wallpaper, I try to ignore life.
Bridled confessions: Are they viable?
We tarried at gates. We climbed a fence. We want entrance—to demand a hearing, to becoming instrumental.
On a collar, a bishop inside, speaking to priests:
rites & water.
