13 on the 20 and the greening gets its dole

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you can believe the world, in it, or you can believe what it reflects

i address the company seagrass, open these quiet windows

the door is a fabulous taste, one hand after another ragged agrees

one makes peace with the color palette one does not disagree with

and the curvature of the spine is similar to the curvature of the moon

one makes likes and then makes lines and then lies about the color

you can belly up to the sky only so many times before it gets old

here the built world argues with itself in waves, but the length of those waves

is debated hotly. i address the company surroundings – lay down

with the street like light, it will be morning again soon and we have

such little pins in our minds to placehold for the things we wish

we were big enough to hold, we were big enough holes – the color

rasping against itself as it grows

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