found a poet last night late in a quiet house devoured poem after poem, like a bird like the shoals of big-eyed moonfish like a mongoose slipping into undergrowth – you don’t want to see those alone. you want to call and point say there the wing catching light, see there they flash silver…
i will stop my mouth with poems, eat through continents and centuries shovelling hungry words like a dog hunkered over scrapings so when the walls are too close to speak this awkward now words like broken teeth and shards of poems will fall from my mouth impersonal, fragments of snow and bone and flowers…