I am appalled by the killing man
The immobility of the mountain has disappeared into the wide trees
Found a home in the cattle garden where dead bones of rusting machines wither reddish lobster shells filled with lights beams
Oh a furrow in your brow my math has gotten stuck in some kind of halfway concussion
Confusion
For our times so promising

A mouth pressed against nothing will go on.

Things are leaking out of my heart

To come out from the form of traditional marksmanship and pull the hat off
Tumbling in the reworking of pure nudity
the extraordinary moment when the body is not belittled by it hangings.
Like the film The Gleaners and I goes on
in its French saboteur reduction of our careless everyday to show we pour out smoke from the stack and do not see the making of birds and blessing cold handless clocks with the forethought that a celery scrap can be brought to stove with a flair for the underground grass
rethinking the pastry source of all its people.
Now I will ware a green hat made from discarded apple leaves
Knowing not to trust that all those that I have discarded belong in any place that I understand but stand upon.
Yes, God blessed the ground.

I wild alone
My eyes dream death
My heart is gone
What hope is this?
In hopelessness
I dream

In the midst of verbal defection
I am given to red paperwork
Houses full of secret entryways rooms hidden by hanging milk jars

perhaps fear is a worthless thing

Flames in my mouth I am at a standstill with what you have told me
I will press my ear to hear now what I was missing
And hope that our parting will become a new way to listen