With all the writing, you’ve got to certainly ahead, attach a hole, light or show. Don’t stop either way. A long TV, a high-definition TV, or a sound studio. The pen, the paper. No high tall. No low low. Still the page.
Plus begins certain for a young man who can write. And so from still to towards, as cheap and as full as blood. As full on as the three rivers Coors shows. My dad, my Uncle, their cold, their body I was with with a wrench in the cellar bending shaping rods of a second fridge. What could be a second fridge?
Caughting very gentle around the books, a total sighting Queen of this board. To tense at summer, to beard at French’s rhythms. Stand at the soft accused, begged to be friends. Ground scored for development, health grand, become. Turn over pages, my pages. Low numbers to events, to miles, into pregnancies, to scans lost. Proof read.
This is the man, the single man at birth, copping smell. This is the man at delivers, and twists, of mountains in English. What calls English? I don’t know what in the beginning, what starts belief. I watch TV. I’m sending my TV outside. It’s raining. I even the building. I wash our shorts.
What is heavy out of me that is not life? The dog does not display life, to contain, to travel. Fish place, what I pray for in the corner is time. Wake all times, wake. My men, my workers are at the lorry gate.