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

:;:

NOTHING IS REALLY REAL UNTIL IT IS MADE INTO A SIMULACRUM OF ITSELF

NOTHING IS REALLY REAL UNTIL IT IS MADE INTO A SIMULACRUM OF ITSELF

present a quote of

the world,

like

a half-whispered

prayer, a sky

bled too white

for stars.

JAPERY

JAPERY

countable and uncountable

that moon yap, tooth

paste white, given

over, liver felt—a

feared, that hollow

mock man, taken out

to smile in all

our places.