The memory is everything of angels and tort bearings woven in crystal glass and trash

fruitful bodies of Damocles
catching the end with binds
and immeasurable weight
now tolerant to swim
with tailored humpback
whales at sixes

haven’t gone fishing in a while
during this discourse
would you meet me halfway
between here and the screen
like a paper house

to a boiling state of prepared noise
do not ask us again to part retreat
we did not want to be the burden
of reality