That building has won over everything.
wherever your suns take you.
between the horizon and the lice.
We’re off to the sea, someone said.
minute, stone so simple the next.
Past the gaga experiments to ginger high school thriller days I wheel fragile issues: a fight on there, bulbous antennae, a herald carved alone in the archer position—sweet! We had a few people over to celebrate the monotony of the new place.
In the republic of other things when we live in a bathroom, weird issues short out what sense orders for us. Like a tired research assistant, you chose to flap around, prompted by hunger, not being sure that the crate of plums arrived.
Than a hare paused amid the gorse and trembling bellflowers and said its prayer to the rainbow through the spider’s web. Oh the precious stones that were hiding,—the flowers that were already peeking out. Stalls were erected in the dirty main street, and boats were towed toward the sea, which rose in layers above as in old engravings.