short lit

It begins with the ink of a dissected squid

I get a call. It’s another babysitting job. The man’s voice sounds creaky over the phone

What did the carpenters imagine would arrive to hold the joists

document.body, but body as in really, biopsy

When the self pulls away, it brings pieces of itself along with it

the way a life, without thinking, bends toward the light source

In a year I’ll be scattered in the wind

how to breathe without swallowing glass

The signal pulses a dull throb in a desert of ground bone

You are a piece of pollen here, barely visible.

The way to make it hot is to think in squares.

it’s all a blur to you

Here we are. We are here

a consensus of algorithms decides the deer should appear now

the only broadcast transmitting directly from the rocks

that mouth · underwater · sa idalum sang kawayan