staggered / clouds

 now...

every time I think I'm falling

I'm calling 

your name...

In this whisky bar we're rebuffed and hanging back,

I'm pursued by feet, 

an imperial beat, Can't run away fast enough

into the sun,

just like on the third day when I rose to a summer sky

and a dry dry creek.

I knew my old boy's tank was empty when we hit the sandy bank on a full moon glitch

forget it in the city / standing there skinny in the pulse-beat with your salsa  and salad conditional regret..

while IT IS not WHAT I wanted in your haunted iron ore ingenue views you return

blurred escape into the cyanide wind. The speed of the stars cuts the time out of what is already gone. Black moons call to empire 

but things are quiet and 

unseen.