Contraction

Eighteen millenia and the wintry miles blew away one sheet of obscurity. And now there are circles in the eyes. And now there are serpents outside, illusive. In a moment when the whistling is quiet, uproot and plunder the oaks behind the sullen students, the twin holes of the galaxies, and perhaps the water will solidify. Cold and bramble pressed together. We are walking crooked on the orthogonal plane.

The outside is not yet light so we will speak in whispers. Secrets are for telling. And so are lies. I hear the crunch crunch crunch. stop. ha ha. stop it. ha ha ha ha. stop it stop it stop the hole stop the mouth stop stop stop stop. Stop. The tail is the head and it circles slowly. Draw an icy ring and listen.

Lean forward rippling man, lean across the trees and say it slowly. Whisper into the narrow chamber, into the punctured ground. Oh how the sullen eyes brimmed, oh how the potatoes grew. And the women kept their lips low and kept on breathing.

For you, I will bottle the colored sand so the hills and heavens undulate. For you the pins shall fall in white and sink deep deep deep. A little more please, a little more now. Enough to break the sea. We are cold and bramble pressed together, crooked breaths and ringed.