from A Text Called How
To figure goggles dense enough to shield the corneas from afternoon sun’s reflection off the high-rises.
There are mucked pillows exploded on every street corner.
The fences are altered every few years to be taller, more repellent and fashionable in materials.
A grassy lot’s meaning changes according to its geographical situation.
Here it is all regarding a tradition carried forth that is erasure commingled with dense pandering thickets of naming.
Decay can contain its most unsettling moments in its repurposing, which is why it is a level of pornography.
Our breaths are lost and heaving in the small, lime-strewn creases which form the boundaries here.
Finance’s thalliform will not concern itself with hundreds of candles or its complicity in their too-occasional eruption on sidewalks.
An exception can ever be found if one strolls in a manner befitting an overcast morning.
The latest is driving refuse to a place of childish colors enclosing a digital portfolio complex.
Experiences in the sublimity of karesansui demand an individual with nimble fingers and lock-picking proficiency.
Inevitably, more compounds arrive daily, buttressed against secure parking.
To wash brick surfaces is a stupid undertaking.
He often bleeds as vomit trickles then pools in freshly-manicured sapling boxes.
One can stop in the street and hardly imagine the decibel level of what was viaduct.