Fieldwizards and firetops. Wobblybirds on snowflowers. Chilled milk and chowder for the little prince. Mothercake for mumbled thanks.

unspeakable dearth of nutrient the cause of the complaint, lack of the sweet titmilk of human connection,

of course it is not about you. you have to know this, like baby birds know worms come with mother’s return,

if ever someone is my dearest ear who hears my truth as theirs

yeah, the contract the social one, so long ago supposedly agreed to, we were born instead into. what

we were all talking, things taking shape as they do, when someone said, be desireless, like that is at all a thing people

a few hundred million dying days later he emerges into crazy

life and even one good thing– anything, a course in wonders becomes? no school, thanks not for me. no lesson one so likes declaring to find itself legs. no

man, it’s hard to come down from impossible hopes seemingly