Dancing of the earth the earth cracked open the steam of the earth opening in the vented the venting dancing open the sibilant dancing of steam of the earth cracked if in opening in how the grilling of the black rubber birds takes time. We have heard these stories, seen the dried knots of undigested bone, heavier now in waking, water is life, water is life. Off in the off-under one wave tied to a crosshatch wave is as above a sky enciphered as sign, opening, the black rubber birds with the smoke pit polestar take a nervous look around. Nothing is ever known in or of the earth in exactly the way a long bone makes a meal. Steam becomes what steam becomes. Bone is. Snap-fires carpet the stalking.
Jeffrey Little | Fail-Shine and the What Nothing Today Contents | Mudlark No. 47 (2012)