We can never be cleaned out
or restored to our original state.
When we do stop time,
will we be able to see far enough inside to apprehend
the shapes of the talismans?
Lopside swaying on a single tack
Or hanging in rows as they had been left for you.
Have you been injured by Modernity?
Has it tried to scrape through your layers to get to the scabby bottom?
I awoke on a beach
clam belly embedded in wet
cheek to soft dry
I created a shipwreck for myself
I woke up at a quarter to four perceiving first light through the downpour.
I met two people
Tadpole boy listless slumber
Ocelot lady stagnates between
creation and decreation.
Where does your outside begin?
A father built a zoo with slats
One cage for all
the broken sounds that come from an inside we don't need to locate.