Sunday, November 3, 2019

$ transfer: I’m asleep.
An only hill / a huge stage
I’ve been searching
Awake most nights, debates that decay:
A clean face in the morning − caped
W/ sounds. Sounds caped w/ light, the best.

When I hear dogs and woods in salt air
Together, like them and like us.
Can you dig a stillness? Can you keep an eye out, the ocean over.