ings, ings, ings, ings, ings, ings,

No one has imagined us. We want to live like
sulfuric air, exuberantly carv ing the rock experiences of our daily life, letter by letter. A mis-read

Let it t o u c h with scars, still
a new grammar an outstretched web, attached ever so lightly perhaps, but still I can grasp it

text (2020)