libya, fossil fuel en af mine fædre tager til ørkenen han er væk længe han sender ting han sender en læbestift i en lerskål han sender forsteninger af muslinger — at luft tordner i himlen og i gletchere hans tænder slides ned i sandstorme hans hud lædrer han vasker sig i sand & tørrer sig i solen hverken anker eller sejl er oppe —at noget bevæger sig derude — at det er is der driver fra gletcheren en af mine fædre bor i et telt i ørkenen han måler sandet han måler i sandet hvor vejen skal være han…
writings
Tagged ice
07.04.2019
(wearing) obscenely lush lavender scent as a space helmet or perhaps hallow upon landing, in the city every cell; all cytoplasm, nucleus and the breath unsure as to why we’re here recalling or summon; the arctic the arctic the arctic
01.22.2016
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…
stinnestorm.org 