City of words
All the galaxies we see have a number.
Sarah Lang, For Tamara
Singlet. Does not wish to. Hardened. Alone is not the page. Breathe rapidly, and nuclear. Articulate. Torrential surf. It matters, how. A yawning memory. When very young, I spoke. Confuse fresh puddles with the motion, air. A single robin. Suddenly. But the clouds. In the desert, I can see such facts. We tend the city, garden. Seed. Be like the pronoun: begun. What are you saying. Internalize terrain. Bit-map. Thinking finishes. You sense the rain: a pressure scent, or barometric push. Rinse, repeat. Repeat. A pitch of drywall. We scale the distance.