Shaggy rodents ceaselessly look for the urine of the stars
In the roar of the stairwells too short to be tired of
Dry black grass scratches at the shadows of hoary beings
Forgotten somewhere between the folded waves of insomnia
And puddle light can’t help cursing the sun
Let me tell you a story too short for a pillow too crumpled
And huge to be smothered with



It is wrong that the most probable place
To meet a ghost downtown is a public restroom
Monuments to the chaos of my friends
Among black ants and backwater herons
Forgotten by all sentient beings bring the light
To the people who hate it the fire to the sunburned
Dead ends shine like the underwear
Unsold for centuries and cracked flutes that has
Never been played