in flaking morning light air some times
i say nothing all at once
my eyes ,filled of white fabric folds,
while you curl here before my
,and beauty, you yawn
you memory, i live for such a placetime
,now in the locker of winter———
,the iceveins chess plays deep,for days
for days do not expand as water,when frozen,
in defiance of temperature and pressure
>>in stead there are fewer warm minutes
>>,sunlight to my back,inthemorning,
(so , i just follow the sun around
so it warms my neck in the afternoon)
in squares on the (which are technically
rectangles) carpet (projected antishadows
evaporating thermodynamically)
in ( f(fl(laki(ing(g morn
ing(g ( lig(ght ( ai(ir some times
i taste what it was to live and
Why should that stop me from feeling?