stump: let’s make a blood pact.
let’s together get blown over
by our best friend, wind. no lack
of oatmeal or ritual hangovers
has set me looking, but tomorrow the project of my life blimps away.
you are (five hundred years bent) content, I won't stay.
rememory me, stump. use my blood which is nimble
nimbler than words, feeble transmutations of your patience to symbol.
Let’s steal time again, pact.
Soon nothing will be shared like that.
I’ve chosen my tin can
when forever is over let’s mix formats
and we’ll sprout from the same dirty hand.
cdzhouse 