up from the muck



riffle mat and layered

          leaf pack

distrustful of the book



that perhaps our skull

continues to shrink or

as such toward a vanishing



point sudden

a series of tracks



left Idaltu casting

these collections



these hands after driving



—ded



        —ded

        locust

        drizzle

        runner

        frisbee

        wheel

        valve



                        —ound

                        snatch

   torque           hammer

   feather          catching



he fell into the cactus

running without watching

              arm outstretched



get out the guidebook auto



unfurl thy flag

for whatever snatch flapping



the dead runners will wheeze

glancing back over his bone

shoulder eye sockets



          unlocked



bone race agent



have become unglued one

woke up one morning and wasn’t



willing nor able

	to here



varnish the roadside and worse

the mind ever and always



          wordless