#fragmets

maybe then.

(a dream)

My toe is full of splinters

pale and smooth as the bare muscle of frog’s legs, skinned and laid on china.

Below us on a crag

against the white sea white sky white air,

foot to foot and topped with plumed headdress

They move gracefully as a unit,

 while the horse moves like wood, a stilted saddle for the rider who is never present.

Though only one has come for us, I see the backs of others formed from explanation.

 but what is housed within its walls is hidden in the memories of microphones.

filling the soles of my feet with gumball spines, dark urchins murky at the bottom of

feel the dusty mulch on my hands as I look for something beneath,

I now suspect is the teeth of horses.

walk between white aisles with a stadium slope, although informal I fill my lungs with the

Divided into groups, blonde, singular.