So, when the dust settles, & remarks to follow. blazed with a sculpted cut the same sameness but – want a wall to track which attacks its self this one a pulsed one strafed out of sleeping some noise too brittle even for these dearest ears but the regiment plods on glazed commitment what – exalted antennae trembling against a signal’s decay would a world look like an eye like another funnel to still the stillness scald the skinless, deaden the senses nerves’ tensioned enough to pluck squall of philosophy blurring in the berattled wash but what we’ll need’s a tumbledown shack, a fishing pole,

a corncob pipe and the weight of Western Literature

to lean against while we wait.