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34 Kate Coles Erases Me or was that the other email a mast breaks (and so cut the sailor adrift) howling rage seas in winter a very tender part not a problem of course I like mailing things as if shot from a gun and no a skeet disk buckshot chasing buckshot rhymes with sleet if there’s to be any weather think of them as hunched even mechanized not like a blond river of gazelles burning fences skimmering grass that pitch / yaw thing doing it with my hand .sweeping down low a pelagic dogfight of ballerinas black pearls in moonlight collapses into what the graphic, pre-ether scalpel and wound albatross cagefights shearwater next to petrels too hard for me Spam and windmills see A Humument see the mast in Cambridge an open-ocean hero boat and then or a bowsprit absurdly important an even colder rain yet pointless it may be too hard or perhaps just as good to and why not ...

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