[ knots in a handkerchief. Perhaps at first the
quiet afternoon in the fields & the accumulation
fragments from the original disturbance, whose static essence
knots in a handkerchief. Perhaps at first the
strong belief in the complete privacy of individuals
stones myself along glass to a folded stone
biting the inside of my lip on accident
yellow flowers of the sour glass closed THING
possible floats on columnular air. Shimmers dusk’s
what I know about ___, what I don’t
of incense sticks: maximum fragility against maximum power
