I don't know how to say this well...

A movie I watched told me that love stimulates and makes rich your REM phase.
When I watched that, I was in the depths of an epistemological crisis and always felt as though I was dreaming, always forgetting to open my eyes when I was driving or walking.
My days were enriched and foggy, then, for a myriad of reasons
but mainly for the way they revolved around the base of your space in space
The way love and affection fills the placeholder of your body
You're a footnote and I'm a footnote
in the larger framework.
See bottom of page
superscript 8
lucky number

Down and Out in the East Jordan Iron Works

I had this composed on the inside of my mouth and told the sky and mountains what the taste of these words sounded like. But then I forgot, I ran home too fast and it all fell out of me in the wind. I always forget the things I need or want to say, which I guess is a product of forgetful loving.

"All of literature is impossible to systematically categorize into comprehension. There is no palpable system of understanding for the card catalog of writerly intent."

I wrote you a letter in the globe of a raspberry, even though it's out of season and beginning to snow. Insides circumscribed with faint etchings of recombinant DNA, prisms of light jutting their hips into the world as it floats from my tongue into the sink. Blood streaks in cold water, did you know that?