a plane ate the clouds. it’s own clouds. like a shit-cannibal.
a house reflection in the shadow. a whole pool of shadow. a leap. i almost
a man standing, bald. in the big windows. still. and bald. and blue. the room was blue.
men where there are no men. tricks of the light. jumps and hands firmly in pockets.
men, big windows. examining plants. a tableaux vivant. cactus and green.
a group of asians, always. same spot. with potatoes. huge, burlap sacks.
christmas trees. bottles. vomit. same category. same dump. never a bin man.
two micro-puddles of blood on SoHo's cobbles. men in scarves. lights, and lights.
a curly haired woman. a stone-white smile. crystal lips. and i