the dark-vowelled birds

and therefore everything. immediately the sun. thick oakland fog, dock lights lighting up like windows on a massy forgotten train. the brightly colored and pointy fleshed vegetable sitting above the alcove where the warmth of the night kept out the howling morning wind. the tingle tingle of the after drug.

music flowing luxuriantly, contemplatively, multiple scarves and kites in russet damask. trails where thought wandered outward and then came back and then wavered in the threshold of the self.