Noah’s arc, but we all get in the ocean and float to the end of the world

to the next world

to the world just beyond us, before us and between us. To the between. 

Now we’re going to fall apart

now we’re going to plan to rewrite

to re-scratch the screech 

the clunk, the tires plunking out of the sidewalk



You don’t walk. You glide

you slide, you slither you burn silver in the back of my mind



You didn’t walk into my life

you ran. sprinted- fast and firm

heaving and spluttering you redefined definition






i keep having this recurring dream that i’m really here. that it’s all really here. clear and concise and dropped out of space. out of time. out and up and through and before…the clacking and clucking of old lots round moments. of cultures and cobwebs and miserable tastes in your head.


i say, bring me the motion. the trust and the triumph. bring me the rain, to resistance of your brain.





but then comes the poetry

soft and ligneing and always and always just pouring, popping pilfering and trusting.

i followed the hills, i shot stardust through all the thrills

the sugar runnig through my skin judges me



people start sweating sugar


listen, look, the whole world slides away when you let it

the whole world peels backwad when you purse your lips and blow through the circumfrence of a square

all i see is the tetrahedron of your face, glistening, purple and wide.

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