This is the wind, the wind down a long valley
Sunlight is a thing that needs a window to be called light.
Have you heard something?
Leather
Battered by time and weather
Doors open and close with tinkling bells
I saw a thousand years pass
Two old men exchanging prose
Table, Glass
The gate is held together by wire
Gold
It will be always at a distance
I will do murder and then drink tea
Think of the spaces
Daughter, do not go where it is dark
I cannot sit in that chair
Cigarette Burns
I do not trust this light
Maybe we could get together on day, and talk about
Silver
There is a dance at Billy’s tonight
Report
These are indifferent streets
Credit
I think of my father emptying the grate
Vitamins
We danced on broken glass and sang
Dragged through streets at dawn
He is chained in an old subway tunnel
I need a sordid movie
Dreams cluster there and turn cold
There are light months and dark months
You are far away, dark in your small fields
Leave it to nature and it will sprawl
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