There is a burning star and there is a gift

of choice at least sometimes

once something will come

from the world, it just appears

from nowhere

making event

of the given

heat-guided drives

for public use

for ease of swallowing

honey, fog, and come what may

unsteady in the gravel

unsteady in the sandy murk

I never said

the end I said

credit functions

on the edifice

of the routine

of pillage and extinction

debt swallows the moon

As an ear’s for

tonguing the open out

an ear’s for breathing

engine of thought

knowing what

listens won’t die

but it’s hard to hear

it’s hard to hear

