Red gone to pink carnations upside down from the floor.
Some kid fucking up a car outside. Softening dusk.
Oboes are sadness or curtains for somebody or
Not knowing or a swallowed duck. Dusk almost gone.
Killing the tiny moths and then the dust smudge on palm remorse.
Feast days don't happen any more. Won't taste the paper wafers again.
"I said Hello Duncan three times. Yes. And you didn't answer. No".
Piano's lidded teeth are not chattering.
Bad gift body is something I almost love today.
This and that is so: a woollen bear; the plait demand (she bit
My hand). Peeling heel skin. What am I coming down to?