so close so almost close so far so
the night smothers us all in snow-soft
the strings stray minutely and wholly into utter dissonance
making decisions, making decisions, busy busy busy
my word, my word
the unfamiliarity
the compression into almost nothing
that contains the universe in embryo
the screensaver green in the back room
flickers
you, you think it is a ghost
but it is everything else
falling like leaves backlit
in some cellar faraway
flushed with wild solvents
all these ambients thrashing their last
(all my plans/all my plans
out like little lights
...
.
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