feet
on the cotton sky
that bubbles read
like colors
that warm
faded boundaries
on moving
red dots.
be lapping
row by
word on
trades...
the same temperature
that you have
pulls songs
into a spring, & raises
the unsure
when arrows
pull, BEGIN to...
down card wells on a flush eared
light. row
mornings
start with an inch
to pace
on electric eyes
by splitting a molten
toy. a first
pretends
group veins
peel ice
better than shapes
by nails. or give
no more,
or reason, to give
on the posted face
that another way has
beams
for. judging by cells
+ the feed
that the other was
your place, it wasn’t
reading sand...
the line
circulates
and turns earth,
twice
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