I have something for you.

It's hard to tell. Halfway across the sky along analog interjections I caught one of your feathers. You were lonely, but charred, and you inspired me. I kept this delicious rip in my stomach. What are you?

It's a wider shade of blue than I expected. It is scraping at my door, smooth grit and fog, suddenly there and shifting and we can change so fast, one day soothing strings nude under the stars and the next raising cattle in Montana. There are so many yous in you but they all produce meaning. Even your name - an archangel - did you know? This one I haven't run into yet. Perhaps in strife.

There are curtains and shadows and stand-ins and we each know what is expected but have forgotten the steps. Amongst empty beer bottles and video game controllers we may dream up new ones. Soar above the city, I want to show you the skyline, dive right inside it, into the belly of this roaring, speeding beast. I don't know if you'll want to follow.

String-soothers and flock-gazers

Something if anything if anything at all somehow blank and undifformed.

Strings never lie, they lead and they tangle. I have counted and counted and counted again the knots that my feet rely on, getting there always getting there first and foremost where are we headed to, this sky is wider than I ever thought it could be.

c'est un chant une aurore c'est un flot dans la nuit

nulle part encore
je pointe
la vague jolie

In the firsts, we met.

It didn't have much to do with anything, really. Overlapping soundtracks don't necessarily harmonize. But this time, it seemed like an amusing crop. I harvested soonishly, stars ashore, and though there was no sense to be prefelt, something told me to walk on anyway.