it is important now that swings are still
and merry-go-rounds are stable
for a hundred empty horses.
the sky is white with cold
but in that lies
a darker sense of good.
the holographic flakes are fretting
like a thousand silent bees.
yet all is calm

there is a kind of somethingness
intercoursing through my veins
and very now and then
i feel the urge to...
but my chair is still
and my eyelids flutter.
time passes. it fits and starts
like the ticking of a watchmaker.