31.07.25
This one goes out to all the ghosts
the rhymes, the distance
the faces mouths
at the dream station slurried
so hang on tight
& spit on me silver tributes
nerve gaggles piquing on nights
wet tremens as they come to parse
nothing ever died of contradictions
a feeling might unpin here
& laugh to stay undarkened
its object-loss red shift
hymn developing antipathies suddenly
blinding in the morning & evening
my idiots dance they cling to me see
& what is a care can it be built again?
in fiefdom cleared the tears come
I mistook the laughter for love
