a man once told me that the god’s had a garden and
that mountains were molehills in their lawn, you can’t
predict the diction of the absurd, you know they’re
never forget that time you swore that in another life
that you could remember vasco de gama shoving off to
set his feet upon a landmass of spices, where we’ll
commit vices when we land, on indian ground…
what’s this harmony? just muted reverie? that smell on
the breeze, pink blackpool rock is stuck in my teeth…
you learn ventriloquy, i play dominos…
like a domino, climbing up the wall, like a domino i can
break your fall? like a domino, painting as you go

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