From January, 2016


to be i and alone and that i  can’t breath right to stop writing. the thing the letters saying  l o n e l i n e s s to can’t hold fear anymore or get any older, since i am a  c h i l d to watch the snow cling to the mountains the  wind lifting upwards  to watch dead fox getting eaten by big bird sitting on it’s head  to watch dark tumbleweed’s obstructed  fluctuations in fences  to recall prior traveling. with  h a p p i n e s s this one is fiercer or raw to watch and weep  over…


and what if all mountains are                                                               unsolids and chasing the horizon                                                                          deadly if pleasure:  endangered and family a ticket you can’t pay  (first time i had my love-wings clipped i was five: departure)…


remember how you told me you’ve been sitting on your porch, unable to work all through summer (how’s your family now? mine too is falling apart) i am sitting on my balcony, the city sounds are painful, except birds — swallows nesting in the parking lot underneath the building — their circular construction of salivary laminae cemented treasures. do you know that. the industry of edible birds nests have exceeded five billion dollars annually. i have days where i can hardly raise my body. produce no sweetness, process no evil this is what small creates do. work, to reproduce the sound of their species, their miniature…


all fevers are of the water. the temperature of our flesh, disturbed. our bodies redraw to the cave of the hidden world. heartbeat calls out for replies — the air reply in our lungs, the daylight reply to our skin. all life moves outwards — come out of your cave. hestene der trækker vejret lærken der står stille i luften sommerfugl på asfalten efter en bil er kørt forbi, broden ude. vingerne sitrer firben


there’s the body and the breath, that’s all. there’s the mouth, open. there’s the brain’s intricate method of instructions to move the body. there’s the hearts. one stopping, the other left beating