Fig. 2.
We summered | online kept our thumbs sore | voice clips of breathing
deleted | as Luz stacked wood totem world of forms | absorbed spirits
contents of Rodin’s drawer | piled plaster fragments of limbs
for preassembly | over analyzing your messages | punctuations in the dark
the rightness of the cube is the mistress of things
threat of exactitude | not artistic truth is
I’ve named a sin I’ve yet to live | words wood clay fire brick for stone
bitumen for mortar | tower piercing the sky | what use is a hoof to a sky
I’ve been showing you my feathered insides | seam lines bulging out on a plinth
increasing in height | throw language in the fire | baby clothes
in the fire | how does it feel weight-bearing chest
rearrange all your toys| reinvention is a form of avoidance
describe it again for me | I’m in the mood for scattering grief