April 7, 2019, 8:19 p.m.

pause on the precipice of weekend

wonder systems

when two stars send noise into the radio night
slinging satellite moon flower broadcasts
AM bouncing from the nebulic clouds
ripples like a swimming snake
of lightspeed contact maybe this
is the next step in the cult;
tease is/as the rhythm of touch
and only touch knows its own boundary


written in April

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