(no title) – draft

When that one dies

Transfer the ,motion o,f  that object to this,

The sun is further away today&

where was that thing had it been lost displaced misfiled or

at another location entirely meanwhile all in the sky we

drug ourself through the night in cloud wrap warmed

by mundane minor thoughts the taste of hot flesh

then it comes screaming bearing ghost or hope

and what do ghosts hope for in their antiworld

they continue as they were always

rote trods fade with each step

so do they dream of one or the other?

fade or take form?

don’t know that there = difference

form = fade (in the end

an idle hour here or there ++s up & then before you know it

1 you are dead

2 so is the universe

though you won’t be around for 2.

+ of course there are infinite steps between the 2. not quite but you g#t the ide4.

live in an age of broken things so make your time in the spaces between.

if you gain a minute every hour save and hoard them up let’s make a bank of minutes

not all the time in the world was used

there’s hope between the gear teeth

or in the gears themselves

that everything turns out

to the finish

the feel of broken l%anguage that incomplte sensation

nags like the ab<sent tooth

whwn the mind struc`true collapses

all words/meaning /fall in ;pon eac other

W/           was unsure if it could be s

S/   could not be i@@@@@@@@@@

It was the perfect phrase except for the lack o%&

and the univers, is made of imcomnplete

or to put it another way:


dredge the antiworld, pull up the corpses of ghosts

the ethereal press-gang, pale mist hands work levers and cranks

death, the motive force behind the universe

or to put it another way:


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