8 less 8 was none

the composition shifts a degree and the whole world dissolves. the fires far east lick the earth, suffocate the seaweed paper tongue, two air-conditioned hearts, tokyo rising sun. four chamber orchestra reflection in the sea. sails stretch out for perth. eight, less eight, makes none.

Journal # february five

A school of puffed up little clouds swam across the sky, chased by a storm, some were not quick enough, i saw them overtaken by the darker water vapors and manipulated into the greater whole. i myself was running, too, through a morass of thick mud and robust grasses, softened focus without my eyeglasses. i split into two and then into four (could have made eight if it weren't such a chore). i once loved our leader, but not anymore.