tonsiled  the slug of your body lies dead upon the floor; it squirms for a funeral without a casket.  I make a bad Schrödinger joke:                                           my cat died but did it ever exist?   should I…

Let’s bundle up this longing to know another / fling curtains over doors / we need more blindness. I gawk at compasses / hallucinate edged circles / stop their revelatory revolutions. A matador’s calculations are never constant / I was formulated for distance. I run into the red, and the cloth is your palm. The…