Your
old dog
was moaning and wandering
In that house you were
bulging red
Convinced it had died in your bed
What
the insects want
Is a clean sunset
In bright moonlight we slept outside Jerking off in the bushes
In cardboard boxes Letters from Christian They'll fix you a bow,
hold on tight
In the waves Clothbound
Poetry from colonial times
They always woke him up Same notion in the carving of the ceiling
In the chairs,
positioning themselves In the darkest corner
A little sparrow in a lane On the heart of things
