like lost belief the sunlight fades from a marble sky--

title by midlope/matt


the hanged man changes dark to light, dimples on a golf ball.
the roll keeps happening. i remember to take my meds
and the sunset ,missed, becomes important. the inner legs
of sanctity twirl around a chicken sandwich and a shared pipe.

just a bit paranoid, i slip feet into a down comforter, staving off the cold i invited in. the laundry is done, the floors swept. food is an issue i can delay.i find this is where i want to be, immoble, writing. the dance of the outside world frightens me, engagement with anything other than the sound of tipping keys and jetoff in the distance feels dangerous, fraught with the living gods and all their desires. i wait for a train's horn, to soothe me into a springing
cat after dinner.