am

staccato engine of the heart. rush forward towards the other end of a wire, previously
molten glass or what was once a button and a can. this vibration stands in for the
center, vacant kingdom or distant receiver. one that stands for foreclosure. turn down
covers, torn honeysuckle drop.

as a child i could whimper. as a woman, stand alone. it’s difficult to move forward
against obvious tracings. harder still to stand and bear, digress is something like please
relent. to be off any fixed articulation tells the arteries to contract. a small red heat that
amplifies with time. a static discharge, unequivocal shock. ally yourself with the
momentary blaze, a significant odor. burned from fingertip to the outermost reach,
pleading with the dew of the body, a weighty signification.

a design: from this perspective, a small, three-legged cat in the street transmits minute
attention, a shed hair, hunger. you mention force fields and i automatically think
plexiglass or the deep bruise that doesn’t discolor. push hands, softly.