Yesterday's absence heavy on my new morning. Shuttles of Time square the roots of space. Dolphin words have eaten all my sperm. The seasons fall backwards, spraining their angles. The overloaded man commits slow-motion suicide backwards in time.
Illusion hangs itself in the damp cellars of tomorrow.
A knife of solid light. On the dark steppes of nowhere deserts words rattle snakes to the beat of a falling star. I cannot help receding forward. A crowd of laughing sand grains fertilizes brain-storms. Locust armies get drunk on fallen towers.