family photograph it might never be better than this: the close shouldered assembly line smile, forced against a sea blue background. neither of you can work the camera.
how Richard Brautigan gave us the words for all the artificial voices in the world 1969 wrapped up as sounds. a last will and testament fifteen years too soon. smiling words,
let there be light inside the mole dark, shivered like a slim fit bandage of blackest crepe, the rooms sink, slithering smaller and nearer and damper and colder and closer and then
a long time since I have seen an unspooled tape on the floor growing up, my gingerbread kingdom, would often be riddled with the metallic brown linguine, of a dismembered cassette.
snail back curled and tourmaline. your infinite, soft stroked hatchings remind; bring forth whispered remnants, from another time. your dawn pavement, now faces an onslaught-