2065
6.238
26.viii.25
page in another language
a perverse
orthography
Skye
thoughts
the house
at me
pulling
picture
it’s a
window that’s there
as if this
word were all of yours –
the
elements, particle, nothing
as cold as
poison, as tired as the dog
and what
does my hour keeper say?
where is
the one that is at me?
heart
offered to fit a little box
I’m
buttering my brain
you know
yourself
the
water’s there
you’re
seeing
is it a
thing within?
take my
half story
and
another on
how’s your
boat?
right
enough
but the
cloak is winter
if it’s not
on me then
clever as
a salmon
no thing
and thing are same
the tea is
as bladder upon
way’s
walked to be gone
weather’s
not finished with us yet
is it not
in the rain of a day?
a dirty
excuse!
sigh in a
fairy mound
the right
is south
you’d
think
less
words, more uses
up on the
crest of a wave
to the end
of the world
you’re
seeing it
as happy
as a shoe
I am
my head’s
porridge
how’s
yours?
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