freight trains and singing blades.
the zen father, the rock star: focus on your posture.
bird calls. passages submerged in water, underground streams splitting into rivulets.
tunnel through rock wall, concealed flows underneath.
x-ray patterns "watch," she said before back flipping on the construction dirt.
she got up and wiped her hands. "oh, no"
awkwardness took over, rewired the entire situation.
walk downhill, the letters descend, judiciary sq. some people choose to be homeless.
while falling asleep, objects begin to move. the thought still clung to her mind
even as they were pulled away her apartment the neighbor's belongings followed currents
past her window, pieces of mail drifted by, packages, a dead bird.
we watched the ants on tv, they never stopped moving, they seemed to thrive on an invisible force.