high the mist hill passing yr silver mattress in twilight
orchard transparencies flo
thin cloud banks
chalk marks by the gate
road bends earth view drifts
mass text dream
discomfort palpable radiations passing below
the high flying bird the lowly worm the liars and the angels the lions and the lambs
his list of treads, his final idiosyncrasies, craqueleur and fractal delerium
early palimsest of scratches slightly clothed in the leafed garden
last year’s autumn hazel backlights all
observe magical king creature stirring
dark’n light aleatoric markers overlooking river in folds unshaven
hyena world of bone or glass
a blue sky as someone passes and leans over looking intent
how the harbour opens, how the field stretches away, the hills celluloid in the distant fiction
a fuckin' socialist joke between blocks of someone
a small pink thing at the point of issue
lovely creatures translated from ideograms in blue
blue mist around the dolmen hollow tree language of stone people
squirrels in a glass cabinet
neon dust reading the signals of a sleeping woman
a mass of hovering facets clung interupting in the breeze statuesque topiary pieces
the childhood spectacle of art darks their speed more than a bit of wood with script
tyre track side of road next rains could see you gone
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