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NEWSPAPERS FROM  The fume from the baseboard, dry and stifling as mummy, gets me. Ear pressed to the white wall, eyes shut, brain wide open, I listen to the packed mash of pages ferment yellow inside the walls. In windstorms the roof, rickety binding, creaks open. I wait. Depression dust spills inside the crevice shaped like an hourglass. Plaster and paper bits fall too.The house shifts. Names of window jumpers hang suspended, some bulging between rafters. I rip handfuls of gibberish, puzzle pieces confounding as sky.  ...

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