Here, a description of stalemate looking past shore. Here is the fragment, the stunted word store.

 

Life brings us to the dedication of the droning fisherman, all his preparations for autumn-thermal thigh-high rubbers...

 

Land trauma, spill snot from earth. A hole so deep on fire and imagined ends/endless. Glory arm reaches in.

 

Speed is distracting.

 

I've a faith prescription.

 

If you multiply geography by time you have right here.

 

Wake into a dream, or first glimpses of the afterlife, God just beyond the threshold, saying you can have anything you want.

 

To be held fiercely, a wave: be still.

 

Sudden awareness of the possibility of absolute loss. From mire, everything's riding on this.

 

Sunlight, our undertaking.

 

What it means to, in the absence of wholeness-side of the self, caught by glimpse. How could we have not seen this before?

 

My bright scarf, a masquerade. Hinter swan.