Follow the tracks the crows make
the splintered blue
imprints of trees in water.
Impressed by pond scum leap
over this into that
green into green.
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See AllBird-scream bustle you tangled arms and cars pushing and pulsing with dreams caught in your throats—gag— wait—is that a dagger I see before me? Could it be the space between the subway and the unendin
My house but the rooms are not mine. Here is where I sat to escape my death, here the mirror of the many faces. Each room says “where?” and invites me out into its own obscure machinations.
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