DIN

DIN

Ein Aug,

:;:

Eigentlich

:;:

cut the wor(l)d from our

skull, a way left

:;:

in silence, here

a scratch, a battered

notebook, too much

unloved, the white of

god’s eye, another moon

of this wor(l)d, an
other year of fakes,

an unfinished list

:;:

EVERYTHING IS AHISTORICAL

EVERYTHING IS AHISTORICAL

your crossed wood
way, a cord,
the set of stones
called venerable, a
land found and found-
ed on the backs of ghosts,
all the spilt type left
to stain once virgin
sheets.

ON DAWN

ON DAWN

the aside cast,
a way given,
undrawn blood spilt

along the road,
unwinding as though
a bandage, undone

:;:

UNTOWARD

UNTOWARD

drawn out,

in

absence, or sense,

ein Weg,

a foregoing, the

Frolic echoing in

its menacing,

celebratory

way—we slip

out the side door,

must always

choose

to return some

other way.