accident in a naked place
there are three
there is one
there is a chance
what mask are these words
for what will come
your voice rides the low cotton
sky, spreads water and light
but nothing grows
it happens again
and a faint scratch
comes like lightning
relief of fire in the dry places
the next time the same
and we realize
how empty gifts are
mirror greetings pass
faces on the street
fine how are you shields
to pretend we pass the time
instead of in it
three one chance
something to one
what time is it in there
i’ll never forget
ol’ what’s his name
because he’ll come up next
won’t he
yes, well everyone has an excuse
tales of clowns stepping over the people
as they storm the castle
heads and necks underfoot
clowns without paint
bogart there way to reality
wigs and big shoes
then the stories
of torches that were to be
carried aforementioned