only some dust remains
a few which carry no name
a flash
an echo calling

a revelation
leafy and diverse
a perverse ritual
nailed to my forehead

it chases me
talks to me
turning coins into wind
i’m obsessed to say the least

indecisively writing things that inhabit sound

a glass
a death vibrating this page
must you move so quickly
murmuring allegories so enormously

you, with your cinnamon colored spleen
i know you, your beating eyelids
rest in me
stay in me