31

I

AA
MMM

CCCC

OOOOO

UUUUUU

NNNNNNN

TTTTTTTT

IIIIIIIII

NNNNNNNNNN

GGGGGGGGGGG

KKKKKKKKKKKK

EEEEEEEEEEEEE

YYYYYYYYYYYYYYY

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

TTTTTTTTTTTTTTTT

RRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

KKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKKK

EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEE

SSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS

HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

WWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWWW

''''''''''''''''''''''''''

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

IIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIII

DDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDDD

OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO

???????????????????????????????

This dread night

In here

With a southern shape a shadow
With a light low
Upon a ceiling
To hissing heater
Of quiet
Of creeping
Of dark

the titanic of blogs

 i like feel like my voice here is like authentic and like providingsomething new to the world or whatever but like no one looks at this or like let alone likes it so like is this a shinking ship (this is a portmanteau of sinking and shrinking obv) and am i like cal or something oblivious to the obvious fate of a readerless blogkingofthe world?

only old things start new things

this view is not the
       view i wrote from last and clacks of keys sound deeper here, more resonant.

                         the rope swing out

                         the window blew wildly in

                         the breeze tonight, as if some stranger sat swinging

                                                        as branches danced above and swayed.

                         the lights are dim now.

                         the refrigerator hums a relentless rhythm.

                i should be sleeping, wrapped in sheets but 

                         the night                                                           and 

                         the week ahead 

                                                                                                  and 

                         the dread of another year, 

                                             another endless

                                                          year keep these fingers echoing on 

                                                                  keys.

                i am                             wildly                                  echoing

this                         breeze

                                                                          these          swinging

                               lights           wrapped in

this                         dread

                               night.

raiders of the lost ark

it moves like memory
               like half awake in an edgewater apartment the

bed in a corner next to a radiator
       i wake in a sweat
                          step a few feet to the bathroom
                          skeletons
and 

wrath 

of 

god

1941

i, i did not watch.

the preview looked horrible.

despite blues brothers

close encounters of the third kind

yes we will fly 

yes we will 

       we will fly and 

                         and into the 

                                       the 

                                into the night i 

                                       the 

                                into the deepest 

                                       the 

                                into the last recess of 

yes we will 

      we will fly 

yes we                     into 

yes we 

                   fly 

                                into the 

       we will 

       we will climb 

                         and 

                     climb 

                         and cling 

                         and cling to 

                                       the 

                    fly 

       we will fly 

                         and 

                    fly and fly