In the edges is where it gets tiring; the quake sound, the softer no, wait.
Things to leave behind: (to remember)
Slip with torn hem
Inexplicable blue foil, possibly from candy long since eaten
Ticket stub
Several pennies
Four prisms on golden wire in bathroom window
**
Slip with torn hem
You are twelve when you get this, strange rusty hangout, traceable, bone thing, taut. A wedge for silent places. A carafe. Lace unwinds and says nothing, nylon goodbye place, hurt there—
Slip, deft, finger the spot of neck with the light spot;gold bits and filament, yes, yes.
**
Foil
Runabout. Wanted reason. The opposite of [ah. Ah.]. hand up skirt skirts—
**
Stub
That
**
Pennies
Left.
**
Glass, wire, seen.
Other things, sins of omission, stories in several.layers.
The edge of speech, like a hem; the underplaces.
Keep all the dust to a minimum; keep men in rakishly tilted hats at bay, keep girls kept quiet. Keep words with hush inside; dust, must, lust, rust, gust (of:
Thoughts in lieu of action:
Faking your own death with two telephones and a jar of beads.The only sort of really close competition.
**
will have lined up all the little jars but
they will not matter here. Find a passkey. A crooked or crook’d arm. A way back.
Things you leave in airports:
Caught, not caw—sound in a pitch/ed roof; hat; whiligig; tourniquet. Love in a bad sailor suit. The blue is fraying. Again or not or very little left. Lies underneath some shale, off an island, off Washington. Hold that sound. DeSoto gullied in a ditch, heel pads scraped long ago under rock bit, limestone quarry, ribbon with divots. Lies over my heart. Non parties. With teeth.
**
think maybe yes, all these ragged parts match, all or at least some or a little.
Lost someone, and
Lost someone, also
To save a certainof and can’t.
Not the matching sort, maybe.
**
In the end is my*
Also: vampires. Also, failed magicians. Also, dead girls with biblically symbolic stand in names. Also, celestial bodies. Also, reeds and rafts. Also, fallout. Also, should crawl back into.yes. he does give up.
**
Echolocate way to cairns.
Burnt edges, gallows humor, deft in line, lipdent, finger that cleft, the bit of dried—ah
We don’t make wars, we make pies.
Burn to sleep, to keep the edges curling inward.
**
holding out for smells and bells
this filmstock doesn’t lie, hold my head towards the left towards that hurt.
