Boot Disc

That candle waned long ago yet i am more than the object photographed in snow rodin like my father before the three step rule displays the tang object artificially a working model of freud’s unconscious its ancient dynasty tells me to use a quarter inch drill bit and that’s what i’m using your version of the sun zaps a bug a boot disc of ancient plants keep me awake dissipating phoenix falls from ash vivid flare wheels encased as to be acceptable earnest light wind falling across a planet colonized for explosion’s language mapped inadmissible vacant wind pushes itself up a ramp fuselage in long bloody flight enters quote verdant history senses the control of independent histories ambiguous soil yields a soundscape of worth to bot or not to bot impossible for the investors climbing earnest white teeth in spring asking difficult questions about uncertain shrubbery.