Trajectory
equinox of withins
absconded and
held as thought, delineated
crossed out, brought back to the surface with the energetic
gasp of a buoy
resumed
in the iridescence of
what is entire-like scales
on the saline nothingness
things, chiming away, mistaken for the sounds of nature: dare you- instruct
chronology, old
anthem
that is your chest, the city built upon it, say something
lung machine
anything that will fizzle this empire
the nonsensical wood and brick
the mortar that divides like paper, petals torn from the orchid-rings
from the dead
do something, history, old tree, fast axis
where you hang your head
—Sandra Simonds