Task: stack, catch, stack.
I’m thinking of muesli on cotton
and the slippage of boy to afternoon.
Parsimonious oysters doing their oyster thing.
Filth to think of, among narrow-bed slat-lit
pensions. Vines and cowardice,
seen from above. No final level,
just Bowser reviving forever.
Just Sebald on the dog-leg,
the news about Ted in a text
message, darling, it’s
: cancer,
emoticons for every gland’s
contraction. The topic is Ambition.
Crouching in the street,
abdominal cramps,
as the red devils spell the word GALLOWS.
