In lieu of an abstract, here is a brief excerpt of the content:

48 the night puts the Relentless & invisible Vocation of seeking to sleep Fish see the city from the water, but can’t speak.A rusty night sky. A bumped box of glass sits in your arms, broken. Sleep with shards of glass. The house tumbles in hurricane clouds, rallies like a child thrown to the ground in a game against cushions. The house one chooses to live in is down the street.The rugs become a moving walkway no matter which direction you take. Silent outburst: remorse, resolve. A cup of consciousness in the morning, the static sleep before dream, forgetting, Listening into the night, but should I speak, the wrong that I am would pass from me. It is the end of the day and you’re left with nothing but the sun in your hair. You open the door, leave the light on. ...

Share